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THE 

RELUCTANT 

LOVER 

BY 

STEPHEN 


McKENNA 



















/THE 

RELUCTANT 

LOVER 

BY 

STEPHEN 
McKENNA / 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 


Z 



MCMXIII 







r 


.... 






'' "N 




m 


Copyright. 1913, by 
The John C. Winston Co. 



/y^ r\l 


4~\ a 



Co 

MY 

FORMER 

FRIENDS 






CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. THE HOME OF A DECADENT .... 9 

II. DINNER AT THE CYNICS* CLUB . . 24 

hi. lady Delaunay's ball 60 

IV. A GOOD RESOLUTION AND ITS FATE 82 

V. LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER AT HOME 92 

VI. A CELIBATE BY STATUTE .... 108 

VII. IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION ... 119 

VIII. PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK ... 137 

IX. AT ANSTRUTHER PARK 150 

X. LISTENERS HEAR GOOD OF THEM- 
SELVES 162 

XI. A PRETTY EXAMPLE OF SELF-DENIAL 190 

XII. ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION AND ITS 

FATE 197 

XIII. RESPONSIBILITIES OF OFFICE . . . 215 

XIV. PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK A 

SECOND TIME 231 

XV. THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE OF 

TIME 257 

XVI. AFTER THE LAPSE OF A YEAR . . 274 

XVII. INSTANCE OF VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 289 
XVIII. A BREACH OF MEDICAL ETIQUETTE 308 

XIX. EVERARD FITZROY OF ALL PEOPLE 

PLAYING PROVIDENCE 316 

XX. DUPLICITY OF EVERARD FITZROY . 325 

XXI. A GLIMMERING OF DAYLIGHT . . . 337 













































THE 

RELUCTANT 


LOVER 


CHAPTER I 

THE HOME OF A DECADENT 
“To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” — Wilde. 

44 1\ T R. HUGO and another gentleman to 
\/| see you, sir.” 

1 V JL “ All right, Beaumont; show them 

in.” 

Cyril Fitzroy reluctantly closed his book and 
changed his position in the chair to bring the 
intruders within his line of vision. He was a 
tall, thin man of three or four and twenty, with 
fair hair and dark blue eyes. His face wore a 
slightly weary expression, natural or assumed, 
and his voice had been attuned to a note of quiet 
languor, which was in keeping with his expres- 
sion. There was a symmetry of design in his 
whole appearance and surroundings which could 
hardly have been the outcome of mere chance. 
The room was furnished throughout in Jacobean 
oak, the wall-paper — where pictures and book- 
( 9 ) 


10 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


cases did not hide it from view — was of a biscuit 
color, the carpet was a quiet and unobtrusive 
green. The flowers *on mantelpiece and tables 
were pure white and helped to strengthen the 
impression which the whole room gave forth, 
that the owner had striven for an effect of some- 
what somber repose and absence of bright color- 
ing. The pictures even were in black frames 
and consisted entirely of engravings; it was per- 
haps surprising to find on inspection that they 
were all creations of the decadent genius of Aubrey 
Beardsley. There was only one place in all Lon- 
don where these rooms and their owner could find 
their fitting architecture and atmosphere, and no 
one who had closely inspected them and had any 
knowledge of Cyril wondered at his living con- 
tentedly in the remote and gloomy Temple. 

The door opened and admitted his visitors, and 
Cyril greeted them without rising from his chair. 

“ Hullo, Hugo, what brings you away from 
Chambers at five o’clock in the afternoon? How 
did you fight your way through the double line 
of your clients? And why, above all, why did you 
bring Johnny with you?” 

“I didn’t bring him. I disclaim all responsi- 
bility for his presence. He wormed his way in 
at the door as I was asking if you were at home.” 

Hugo Fitzroy abstracted a cigarette-case from 
his brother’s pocket and sank into a chair. There 
was a certain resemblance between the two that 
both eagerly and promptly denied when an ill- 
advised stranger commented on it, but Hugo 


THE HOME OF A DECADENT 11 


was nine years older and presented a generous 
breadth of body which his brother lacked, and a 
generous lack of hair which Cyril still retained. 
This was partly due to the necessity of wearing 
a wig in court, but principally — as Cyril pointed 
out — to his brother’s rapidly advancing age. 
The other new-comer was John Stanford, a man 
two years Cyril’s junior and just down from 
Oxford. He was tall, dark-haired, and stoutly 
built, with a plump face and great gravity of 
manner, which it was the delight of his friends 
to disturb. 

“I did not come here to be insulted, Cyril,” 
he remarked, “ either solo or in chorus.” 

“It would be difficult for a mere outsider to 
guess why you have come here. The hypothesis 
that I invited you is untenable.” 

“As untenable as the hypothesis that I really 
wanted to see you.” 

“And I have already explained that I did not 
bring you,” added Hugo. 

“This is where special knowledge of your 
character comes to my aid,” said Cyril. “It is 
five o’clock and Johnny has had no tea.” 

“Female servants make' the worst tea in the 
world,” remarked Hugo, “but you may take it 
from me that barristers’ clerks are good runners- 
up. That explains my presence here too.” 

Cyril sighed. “I’m sorry. I wanted some tea 
too, but your arrival has upset things.” 

“How so?” 

“I dislike drinking my second quality tea.” 


12 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“So do I” 

“Your dislike of drinking my second quality, 
or Visitors' tea, is as nothing to my dislike of 
your drinking my first quality, or Self tea. But 
I suppose I must sacrifice myself and descend to 
your level. You are sure you prefer having tea 
here to going out and buying it at a neighboring 
shop?" 

“Quite sure, thanks; aren't you, Johnny?" 

“Yes, and we want first quality. Ordinary 
hospitality compels you to give us that." 

“My dear boy, I pay four shillings a pound 
for it, and you wouldn't know the difference. 
You are not old enough to appreciate good China 
tea." 

“Well, what about Hugo?" 

“Oh, he's old enough. Old enough for almost 
anything, but appreciation of good tea requires 
undivided attention, and he has been frittering 
away eight or ten years of his life at the Bar." 

Cyril leaned over and rang the bell for tea- 
things to be brought in. 

“Well, Johnny," he asked, “how have you 
been occupying your unprofitable leisure since 
last I saw you? You were making yourself con- 
spicuous by paying marked attention to Lady 
Irene Halliday when last the discreditable waters 
of your life mingled with mine. Are you pros- 
pering in that direction? From her mother's 
remarks to me, and still more from my remarks 
to her mother, I should say not. Lady Field- 
marsh regards you as a detrimental." 


THE HOME OF A DECADENT 13 


“So I gathered from Lady Irene, but as I pointed 
out to her, her mother’s disapproval of me is 
neither here nor there. I disapprove, with equal 
or greater strength, of her mother, but I don’t 
shout it from the house-tops. A certain reticence 
should be observed in these matters.” 

Hugo threw away his cigarette. 

“When you are as old as I am, all mothers 
will regard you as a detrimental, but the knowl- 
edge of this will not disturb you — for the mothers 
will have served their turn. You will show them 
quite plainly that their daughters, if they ever 
attracted you, have long ceased to please; that 
their suppers, if you ever digested them, have 
long ceased to agree with you; and that it amuses 
you no longer to stay up till five in the morning 
working yourself into a state of heat that is as 
exhausting as it is unnecessary.” 

“Then what happens?” asked John Stanford. 

“Oh, then you take to simple pleasures. You 
leave the disapproving mothers, who silently 
reproach you for eating their salt and omitting 
to marry their daughters, and mix only with 
people of an age where no misunderstanding can 
arise. Nowadays I seldom love anyone above 
school-room age, and I am welcomed by the 
mothers as a well-meaning middle-aged man who 
comes to amuse the children.” 

“And no doubt the children find you amusing; 
but ca^ you say the same of the children?” 

“Emphatically.” 

“Without a doubt,” added Cyril. “When I 


14 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


dance with girls of fifteen or sixteen I feel a pro- 
cess of moral elevation going on which leaves me 
almost unrecognizable. They talk to me nicely, 
commenting on the floor and the music, asking 
me if I go to many dances and what plays I’ve 
seen. It's as different as possible from ordinary 
ballroom small-talk. That nearly always comes 
back to a discussion and description of one’s 
stomach, why you refuse some things at supper 
and eat others, ‘how you feel in the morning and 
what you can face for breakfast when you are 
not as strong as usual.” 

“What curious partners you must have!” re- 
marked John Stanford. “How do you select 
them?” 

“First by looks, then by their estimated capac- 
ity for dancing. I walk up to the best looking 
girl and say: ‘You don’t remember me.’ She 
can only say ‘Yes, I do,’ or ‘No, I don’t,’ and 
from this conversation begins rapidly to flow. If 
she proves on trial to be a skilled waltzer, we 
waltz. If not, we sit and talk. Usually, as I 
said, we discuss our stomachs, but my effort is 
to get the young person to tell me about her soul. 
One meets an occasional very entertaining soul 
in the course of a season. Another cup of tea, 
Hugo?” 

“No, thanks; I must get back to Chambers.” 

“Work heavy?” 

“Partly that, partly I cannot face the prospect 
of hearing you and Johnny discussing the souls 
you have dissected in the course of your brief, 
wasted lives.” 


THE HOME OF A DECADENT 15 


“But the subject is dismissed. I cannot dis- 
cuss it alone, and Johnny sees he is disturbing 
me and has been fidgeting to get away.” 

“No, I must get back. Are you dining at the 
Cynics 7 to-night? 77 

“Probably. I never know until the hour 
comes. Good-bye. Do take Johnny with you! 77 

As no response was made to this invitation, 
Cyril turned to his remaining visitor. 

“There, Johnny, goes a man who is entirely 
lacking in the faculty of amusing himself. It is 
partly indolence and partly an ingrained reluctance 
to cultivate any interests outside his work. If 
you want anyone to act as your model in life, 
Johnny, you had better take me rather than 
Hugo. I find the world a very amusing place, 
but Hugo ends up a long day’s work and thinks 
of nothing but dinner, a cigar, and bed. Then 
up again to work next morning, and so on from 
one year to another. It distresses me to see how 
unhappy people can make themselves by trying 
to uphold the dignity of labor. 77 

“I wonder if your methods are any more suc- 
cessful. You never seem to do anything but sit 
and smoke from one meal’s end to another. You 
have never studied life as an art.” 

“But what is life but an Oxford Sunday, an 
imperceptible gliding from meal to meal? I 
observe life from an eminence and find my fellow- 
man very diverting. I like to study him in every 
aspect. He is an odd little creature, born into 
this world without being consulted on the subject, 


16 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


and creeping out of it at the end of his predestined 
period, usually against his will and without know- 
ing where he is going. Like you, it amuses me to 
see how he occupies his time. One man thinks he 
is going out like a candle : I like to see him trying 
to enjoy his little life before that day comes, 
marrying a wife and trying to perpetuate his 
little self in his children, or giving himself up to 
riotous fleshly indulgence and being sorry for it 
afterwards. Another amuses himself by thinking 
he is going into another world when he dies. 
I like to see him making his preparations for that, 
fashioning a little god in his own little image, 
putting little laws and prophecies and gospels 
into his little god’s mouth, and then expending 
his leisure in explaining why he does not live up 
to them. Then another professes to be unde- 
cided what fate the future has in store for him, 
but wants to be on the safe side by devoting 
himself to good works in this world. I like to 
watch him, because he is of most direct benefit 
to myself. He does the public work of the nation 
by which I prosper. ‘England,’ he says, ‘has the 
noblest and most widely spread civilization in the 
world. It must be perpetuated, improved, and 
extended.’ So he takes a rifle, or a battleship, 
and protects me. He passes wise and humane 
laws for the amelioration of the poor. I pay for 
them, it is true, but they keep the poor more or 
less contented, and I should have to pay much 
more if the poor ameliorated themselves. He 
puts a policeman at my door, gives me good roads 


THE HOME OF A DECADENT 17 


to drive down and a sanitary N city to live in. 
I am indebted to the man who finds his vocation 
in public life : he gets his reward by being made a 
peer or a cabinet minister, but he has to work 
very hard for it, and I get the chief benefit from 
first to last. There is a great deal to be said for 
being a parasitic growth on a highly organized 
society, Johnny. That is my position, and I get 
my amusement in life by looking at my neighbors 
and wondering whether they have made as good 
a bargain with the world as I have.” 

“And you are contented with the world as it 
is? And with the place you occupy in it?” 

“Perfectly. Aren’t you?” 

“Oh, very fairly. In the matter of ‘facing 
fearful odds for the ashes of my fathers and the 
temples of my gods/ I am a fair sample of a par- 
asite myself, and have no ambition to undertake 
the toil and responsibility of earning myself a 
page in the history of England for the twentieth 
century. My only complaint about the world 
is that most of the color and romance have gone 
out of it. We have ceased to have any emotions 
and our lives are the poorer for it.” 

“What emotions do you want?” 

John Stanford walked to the bookcase and 
picked out Stevenson’s “New Arabian Nights.” 

“You know the story of the Suicide Club?” he 
asked. 

Cyril nodded. 

“You remember old Mr. Malthus, who came 
night after night and gambled for his life because 


2 


18 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Fear was the only emotion which had any effect 
on his wornout system, when wine and women, 
love and hate and avarice left him cold?” 

“Is this blank verse?” 

“Don’t interrupt; you’ve spoiled my period. 
His final dissipation was the excitement of draw- 
ing a card which, in all human probability, sooner 
or later, would lead to his violently murdering, 
or being violently murdered, by a fellow-member 
in cold blood. It is a fantastic story, but the 
moral is sound. You and I never have experience 
of what fear is. Adventure and risk of death 
never come our way. The immunity is part of 
the highly organized civilization of which we are 
parasites. It is the reward we win or the price 
we pay for civilization, whichever way you like 
to regard it.” 

“Wefi?” 

“Well.” John Stanford laughed. “All this is 
leading up to the confession that I have joined 
the Samurai.” 

“The ungodly — in the dignified form of Lord 
Darlington and his latest disciple — have hemmed 
me in, I say, on every side. Why have you done 
this thing, Johnny?” 

“There is a mediaeval and romantic flavor 
about the thing that appealed to me. All right, 
I won’t try to convert you, but the idea of the 
New Chivalry attracts me. What do you think 
of my decision?” 

“The other Samurai have my sympathy: you 
are excluded therefrom. Oh, if the thing amuses 


THE HOME OF A DECADENT 19 


you, that is your justification. I admit that the 
prospectus left me quite cold; I don’t want to 
join a ‘brotherhood organized for social service/ 
or to ‘regulate the scattered and too often dissi- 
pated influence for good that exists in each one 
of us.’ ‘The Sight of Suffering’ and other allitera- 
tive phrases fall on deaf ears in this case. I 
make it a rule never to see suffering; for me, 
suffering and poverty do not exist.” 

“That’s because you don’t look for them, and 
because you shut your eyes when they come your 
way.” 

“My case, my lord. When the world is simply 
crowded with beautiful things to see, to hear, 
to smell, to touch, to taste, it is nothing but 
perverted ingenuity to go in search of squalor 
and pain and hunger: evil sounds, evil smells, 
evil sights. The only suffering I know is that 
which comes over me when I reflect on the trans- 
itory nature of it all, and between ourselves, I 
don’t let that distress me as much as an artist in 
life should do.” 

He dragged himself out of the chair and strolled 
to the window. 

“Look at that afternoon sunlight on the river, 
Johnny: the finest color God ever put into the 
world. It will last another ten minutes, possibly 
fifteen. Look at these flowers — May roses. 
Smell them. Fresh this morning, and to-morrow 
cast into the oven.” 

He went back to his chair and dropped into 
the gentle drawl which for a moment he had 
abandoned. 


20 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“And you bid me give up the beauties of the 
world and leave my sunset and my flowers in 
order to play whist with greasy cards in an East 
End settlement.” 

“On the contrary, I did no such thing. I 
bound myself not to try to convert you. Dar- 
lington will do that. I only want to point out 
that your pleasure is purely sensual : it is pleasure 
of the eye and ear and tongue, and not of the soul.” 

Cyril laughed. ii 

11 You talk to me of soul! My definition of soul 
is a sense of beauty: at least that is good enough 
to give you something to think over. The soul 
of a Samurai is nothing but fatty degeneration 
of the conscience. They can’t read a book, smoke 
a cigar, or look at a picture without wanting to 
rush off to an unsavory slum and force these 
benefits upon others. It may be good Christian- 
ity, I have no special knowledge; but this I knovr 
that as aesthetics it is beneath criticism and censure 
and contempt.” 

John Stanford started round the room in search 
of cigarettes. 

“I think you’re almost qualified for a place in 
‘ Who’s Who,’ Cyril. ‘Fitzroy, Cyril. Born 
February 27, 1888, youngest son of — etc. Edu- 
cated Winchester and Christ Church, Oxford. 
Happily unmarried. Residence, Temple Gardens. 
Clubs — Cynics and Eden. Telephone, 50000 Hol- 
born. Telegraphic Address, ‘ Desire,’ London. 
Occupation: Smelling flowers and looking at 
sunsets. Sports, pastimes, exercise, recreation or 


THE HOME OF A DECADENT 21 


business — smoking/ It would make a good 

notice.” 

“My only comment is that it is better to smell 
flowers than to smell back-alleys in Poplar. By 
the way, now that you’re a Samurai, will you 
still be able to dine with me at the Cynics? I ask 
without prejudice and you must not take this as 
a veiled invitation.” 

“Oh, I think so. You see, Darlington, our 
High Priest, is a member.” 

“True, I had forgotten that.” 

“Why do you belong to two clubs? Isn’t the 
Cynics sufficiently worldly and disillusioned?” 

“It is for me, but not for some people, so they 
founded the Eden and asked me to join.” 

“Why the Eden?” 

“After a well-known garden of that name, 
Johnny, where the first inhabitants tasted of the 
tree of knowledge and became as gods, knowing 
good and evil — that description fits the members 
of the Eden: vice Genesis passim: we are all as 
gods there, knowing good and evil. Come and 
dine sometime if you don’t believe me.” 

“Perhaps I will, but not to-night, and that 
reminds me of the real purpose of my call here, 
next, of course, to the urgent necessity of getting 
tea. Are you going to Lady Delaunay’s ball 
to-night? I fancy she wants all the men she 
can get.” 

“That is an inducement for staying away. 
You are young and inexperienced, Johnny. You 
are still agreeably flattered when unknown host- 


22 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


esses summon you to their routs; in a word, you 
are still at an age when you allow other people 
to make use of you. When you are as wise as 
I am, you will value other people in so far as they 
contribute to your amusement. Lady Delaunay 
will no longer be a lady whom it is incumbent 
upon you to amuse; she will be a lady whose 
duty it is to see that you pass a pleasant evening 
which might otherwise have been dull. 77 

“Well, get to the point. 77 

“I cannot answer offhand. I do not know what 
I shall be doing this evening, or how heavily time 
may hang on my hands. If I am disengaged 
and in want of diversion — I might look in. Or, 
again, I might not. 77 

“Do you keep an engagement book? 77 

“Yes, it 7 s by the clock. 77 

John Stanford opened the book and turned the 
leaves. “ ‘ April 30th. Oysters go out of season. 
Eheu fugaces !’ Is that a social engagement? 77 

“It is an important division of the calendar. 
Other people record the deaths of problematic 
saints and the arrival of quarter-day. I prefer 
to note the wistful departure of a valued article 
of diet and the appearance of a persistent and 
crushing phenomenon like the salmon. But it 
is no longer the 30th of April, so why torture my 
mind with the mention of what I may not eat till 
the first of September? 77 

“ ‘ Arrival of asparagus 7 : ‘ plovers 7 eggs at their 
most plentiful. 7 Here we are — ‘Lady Delaunay, 
10.00 p. m . 7 You’ve no other engagement, so 
you had better come. 77 


THE HOME OF A DECADENT 23 


“I will give no undertaking one way or the 
other, but if — when I have dined and smoked and 
looked in at Covent Garden — I feel no inclina- 
tion for bed, it is possible that I may figure at 
Lady Delaunay’s as one of what the Morning 
Post calls ( other well-known dancing-men.’ Now 
I insist on your going, Johnny, or at least leaving 
me to read in peace till dressing time.” 


CHAPTER II 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 

“ No more wine? Then we’ll push back chairs and talk.” 

— Browning. 

half-past eight the same evening a tall, 

L\ thin figure emerged from the gloom of 
X JL the Temple and, fortified by the presence 
of lilies of the valley and a cigarette, made 
its way slowly down the Strand in the direction of 
Pall Mall. It was nearly nine before Cyril Fitz- 
roy reached his club and contemplated with relief 
the prospect of dining with the Westminster 
Gazette as sole company. This, however, was not 
to be, for as he walked up the coffee-room to 
order dinner, a voice at his side was heard to 
remark reflectively, “I say unto thee, Solomon in 
all his glory was not arrayed as one of these.” 
Cyril turned and met the gaze of Lord Darling- 
ton, who was dining with Rodney Trelawney, a 
young Oxford don. Lord Darlington invited him 
to join their table. 

“ Three minutes to order dinner, another three 
to read the Exchange telegrams, and I will be 
with you,” said Cyril. 

“I didn’t know you had the honor of Cyril’s 
acquaintance,” said Rodney as Cyril walked away. 

( 24 ) 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 25 


“I was about to make the same remark to you, 
Rodney, but on reflection decided not to. It 
would be like asking you to identify a portrait of 
the king. Cyril is rapidly becoming a public 
character. I have known him for a year or two 
now. In fact, I think I may say I owe my life 
to him.” 

“The nation is indebted to him,” said Rodney, 
with an ironical bow. “But it must have gone 
sorely against the grain. He poses as living for 
beauty alone and abhorring the merely useful. 
He also poses as being devoid of all sentiment and 
emotion. Do please tell me how he came to deny 
his gods.” 

“Oh, he did not save my life for love of life- 
saving. He has often told me — quite politely, of 
course, he is always polite — that he regards my 
public work as that of a dangerous and mischievous 
fanatic. His own efforts at reform, I imagine, 
would start by way of wholesale demolition.” 

“Most reform starts by way of wholesale demoli- 
tion. I remember a discussion in his rooms at 
Oxford. A number of frivolous undergraduates 
sketched out what they would do if they were 
God Almighty for twenty-four hours. We all 
demolished something. I concentrated on Bletch- 
ley Junction, someone else on the statuary of 
Holborn Viaduct at the Farringdon Street Bridge, 
someone else selected Balliol and the Meadow 
Buildings at the House. But Cyril's destruction 
was on an epic scale. He ranged from Gower 
Street to the public monuments of Edinburgh 


26 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


and embraced all the industrial centers of the 
midlands and north. Even with divine powers 
it would have been stiff work for twenty-four 
hours. However, we are losing sight of our 
original point. How came Cyril to save your 
life?” 

“Oh, he was at a children’s party or some such 
incongruous gathering, and was dancing with 
Violet, my daughter, you know, when a telegram 
was brought in to say that I was seriously ill and 
wanted her and a specialist: our local man was 
nervous about operating on his own responsibility. 
The last train had gone, and it looked like taking 
some time to get a special, so Cyril volunteered 
to motor Violet and the surgeon down if someone 
would lend a car. I think the dance was at the 
Mount-Stuarts, anyway old Mount-Stuart offered 
his car, Cyril just asked if it were insured, found 
it was, sent Violet off to change her clothes, rang 
up the surgeon, lit an abnormally large cigar — 
so I’m told — and got under way in fifteen minutes 
from the arrival of the telegram. They must have 
kept up pretty nearly fifty miles an hour, but 
even so, only arrived just in time. Arbuthnot — 
the surgeon — had a look at me, remarked ‘ appendi- 
citis,’ and had it out in about the time you’d take 
to uncork a bottle. Gangrene had set in even 
then, and another hour would have been critical.” 

“What was Cyril’s version?” 

“Oh, he says that the drive in to Oxford and 
down the High by moonlight is a sight no man 
forgets, and as Violet had never seen it, this was 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 27 


the opportunity. He always swears he meant to 
knock up a friend at All Souls in order to show 
Violet the view of the Camera from the Quad, 
but that she was asleep and he did not like to 
wake her, as children are so irritable when their 
sleep is disturbed. Violet denies the sleep, and 
I rather fancy the whole story is apocryphal. 
But as regards yourself — you were not up with 
him, were you?” 

“No, I must be his senior by seven or eight 
years; but his brothers were at the House with 
me, and I used to go and stay with them.” 

“Has Cyril always been like this?” 

“Like what?” 

“Well, has he always followed the cult of flip- 
pancy and uselessness? I think it’s a pity. It 
paralyzes his powers of doing any good in the 
world, though very possibly it adds to his faculty 
for amusing his friends. He wants a little ego- 
mania knocked out of him and a little enthusiasm 
knocked in.” 

Rodney laughed. 

“Cyril would have a lot to say about your 
definition — whatever it may be — of doing good in 
the world. He told me the other day that the 
world had rubbed along without his assistance up 
to the year 1888, and he saw no reason why it 
should not rub along a few more years. I think 
he imagines himself to be a non-moral creature 
subject to attacks of ennui, which it is his interest 
to render as few as possible. I don’t think he 
has any ambition to satisfy; he has as much 


28 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


money as he needs for living in comfort; he reads 
a great deal, travels a little, enjoys good music, 
and above all takes an absorbing interest in his 
fellow-man. Not from any desire to embrace 
him as a brother, but to catalogue him as a speci- 
men. No — I don’t think he has always been quite 
the present bundle of negations, but I should be 
hard put to it to name anything that has ever 
roused his enthusiasm. Except Aubrey Beards- 
ley, but that is quite a distinct pose.” 

“ Oxford is a bad school for a man like that.” 

“I’m not sure. I don’t think it changes you. 
Your mind is broadened — until you become a don 
like me — but your primitive instincts are strength- 
ened : and if your instinct is to deride enthusiasm 
and jeer at the misguided people who run with 
the boats and that sort of thing, you will just 
give vent to your derision. It won’t be knocked 
out of you; and similarly, if jeering isn’t in your 
line, it won’t be knocked into you. A man gets 
ten years older before he goes down, but I don’t 
think Oxford changes him. Perhaps it’s just as 
well. It would otherwise make for undue uni- 
formity.” 

“ Marriage will alter Cyril.” 

“ Cyril won’t marry. At least, not if I read 
him aright. He affects to study women as he 
studies men, in the light of specimens, and some- 
times as works of art by an inspired hand. From 
a sexual point of view he is completely indifferent 
and extraordinarily coldblooded. I suppose if 
you live on eggs and nuts and fruit as he does, 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 29 


and never eat meat or drink wine, your blood 
does get chilled.” 

“Well, I’m not sure that I accept your view of 
him. He likes to give the impression, I grant you, 
of being quite without emotion or interest, but I 
fancy it is either an attitude he deliberately as- 
sumes, or else that at present he knows no better, 
and that he has never come across an incentive, 
be it a woman or what you will, sufficiently strong 
to rouse him. Whichever it is, I hope for his 
sake it will be short-lived. He is laying up a 
pretty cheerless future for himself if he shuts out 
men and women from his intimate life, and only 
welcomes them into the laboratory to be dissected 
and catalogued. It will make him very lonely 
and selfish, Rodney. Man cannot live by Aubrey 
Beardsley alone, at least not after he’s five-and- 
twenty.” 

“Well, here he comes if you want to try your 
reforming hand on him. I believe if you were 
God Almighty for twenty-four hours you would 
order him beer and a porterhouse steak and make 
him enlist for twelve months.” 

“I am not sure that it would be at all a bad 
beginning. Sit down, Cyril, and when you’ve 
got some food inside you, attempt in a few words 
to justify your existence.” 

“The beauty and simple poetry of my existence 
are its own justification. But leaving that on 
one side for a moment, I’m filled with late informa- 
tion on a variety of topics, the eccentric move- 
ments of the Bank rate, the condition of Home 


30 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


rails — neither of which you would understand, 
Rodney; the score which Kent or some other 
county made in their first and some later innings, 
and excerpts from the Prime Minister’s speech at 
Liverpool, where he appears to be striking what 
the Daily News and Leader of to-morrow will call 
a note of fundamental Liberalism. You, Lord 
Darlington, I will privately inform that there has 
been a slump in proconsuls.” 

“ You mean the death of Glenlivet in the Trans- 
vaal? That was in the Times this morning.” 

“No, I mean that Rochdale has had to throw 
up the vice-royalty of India. . Nervous breakdown. 
The dim inscrutable brown man seems to have 
been hotting it up for him, and the last bomb- 
throwing appears to have disturbed his peace of 
mind.” 

“Nice job for his successor,” murmured Rod- 
ney. “I wonder who will get it.” 

“I wonder, rather, who will take it,” said Cyril; 
“would you, Lord Darlington?” 

“India? Most certainly if it were offered me.” 

“What will you do about Violet? I suppose 
two will make a better mark for fancy shooting, 
but it seems a pity to sacrifice her in the cause 
of entpire. Your views, of course, I regard as 
incorrigible. You suffer from what the Catholics 
pleasantly term invincible ignorance on the sub- 
ject of kid-glove government for Asiatics, but I 
have tried hard to enlighten Violet.” 

Lord Darlington received Cyril’s impudence 
with a smile. 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS' CLUB 31 


“If I go to India I shall leave Violet behind and 
appoint you her guardian." 

“What about Abana and Pharpar, rivers of 
Damascus, or in other words, your respected but 
quarrelsome sisters? My life wouldn't be worth 
an hour's purchase." 

“Nor would Violet's if I left her in charge of 
those — well, I must not call my sisters cats." 

“On the contrary, Lord Darlington, you have 
the fullest liberty from both Rodney and myself 
to call them what you please. It would be a 
pretty state of things if a man might not call his 
own sisters cats. Where then would be the 
Englishman's much-boasted freedom of speech?" 

“Well, India's a long way off, and so is the 
vice-royalty as far as I am concerned; but I 
warn you, Cyril, if I go you will have to act as 
guardian." 

“I could hardly have made a wiser choice my- 
self," said Cyril gravely. “And now, Rodney, 
having disposed of Empire and the Ladies Eliza- 
beth and Rachel Anstruther, not to mention their 
niece the Lady Violet, will you please inform me 
what you are doing in this wedding garment in 
a club of which you are not a member, or — if I 
may say so without offence — likely to become one. 
You should be in Oxford, forming the minds of 
the young and directing the innocent pastimes of 
their simple leisure." 

“Cyril, you put me in mind of 'Enery Straker's 
remark in ‘Man and Superman,' ‘I wish I 'ad a 
car that would go as fast as you talk, Mr. Tanner.' 


32 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


I’m up here, yes, in full term — I admit it — to go 
to Lady Delaunay’s ball. I imagine you are 
going there too. Everyone seems to be.” 

“ Thank you for the exclusive flavor you give 
to my invitation. I may be going. It depends 
whether I take money off Lord Darlington at 
bridge. Do you know your hostess?” 

“No; do you?” 

“I never know my hostess. It only encourages 
them. But this ignorance on your part is sig- 
nificant, Rodney. To come up from Oxford in 
mid-term to attend the ball of a lady you don’t 
know — there is something behind it. You are 
still in pursuit of the Ideal, and for some reason 
best known to yourself you expect to meet her in 
St. James’s Square.” 

“What — or perhaps I should say who — is Rod- 
ney’s Ideal?” asked Lord Darlington in some 
amusement at the sparring of the two young men. 
They formed a contrast with many points of 
similarity. Rodney, excitable and thin in the 
skin, a man on wires, easily irritated and quickly 
betrayed into saying something he would after- 
wards regret; Cyril, thin and ascetic, but studi- 
ously calm and deliberate in utterance, weighing 
every word, and in conversation always giving the 
impression of a meaning held back and concealed 
under the obvious structure of his well-rounded 
sentences. 

“Rodney has flung ’Enery Straker at my head 
and I will retaliate with Andrew Undershaft. 
Like all young men, he greatly exaggerates the 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 33 


difference between one young woman and another. 
This leads him to imagine a hierarchy leading up 
to the Ideal. This latter has never been clearly 
defined, but she is to have transcendent beauty, 
countless wealth, ripe wisdom and ready wit. 
When found, Rodney will condescend to ask her 
to marry him. So far he has only got to the 
point of giving her rich and expensive cakes at 
Rumpelmayers. ’ ’ 

Rodney flushed under the fire of Cyril’s slow 
drawl, and at the last word sat upright. 

“What is the objection to Rumpelmayers?” 

“None that I know of, my boy, except that the 
cakes are too rich for my impaired digestion. 
I never go there. I go to a flat hard by where a 
young friend of mine occupies an eligible suite of 
rooms, and insures your life in quicker time than 
you would take to pick a pocket. That, however, 
is a harmless foible easily disposed of either by 
taking out a policy or by saying as I did that I 
had been refused by every other office in London 
for perforated lungs and unremitting hemorrhage. 
He plays the piano very nicely and composes 
waltzes in unguarded moments. I go there when 
I want to be soothed, and I was being wooed into 
blissful oblivion of the world and its wicked way 
this afternoon when I was brought abruptly back 
to stern realities by the sight of Rodney and the 
Ideal making tracks for the cup that cheers 
not.” 

Cyril paused a moment to enjoy his friend’s 
discomfiture, and then added: 


3 


34 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Of course, Rodney, if you didn’t want to be 
seen and I’d known that, I’d never have looked.” 

“For Heaven’s sake stop talking, Cyril,” said 
Lord Darlington, “and get on with your dinner, 
or I’ll call the head waiter and have you put at 
a separate table. The walls of an isolation hos- 
pital would cry aloud to Heaven for relief if you 
got inside them and began talking. I asked you 
to join this table because I wanted to point 
morals and adorn tales. Look round at the 
people dining here to-night and take warning. 
It is time you got married.” 

“Which am I to look at, Lord Darlington, the 
married men seeking relief from the nightmare 
of domesticity, or the unmarried men coyly refus- 
ing its advances? The unmarried men, I see. 
Rodney, we are in the same boat here. If you 
don’t give up looking for the Ideal, and if I don’t 
start out in your footsteps, you see what you are 
going to become in about a hundred and fifty 
years’ time, according to Lord Darlington. Take 
your choice, my boy, and pick out the Awful 
Example who particularly takes your fancy. 
I rather fancy Everard myself.” 

Rodney followed the direction of Cyril’s laugh- 
ing eyes to a table where his uncle was seated. 
Everard Fitzroy was a man of fifty, a bachelor 
of ample means and generous proportions. At 
the moment he was performing prodigies of sur- 
gery on a kipper savory, his elbows sturdily raised 
above his head and his single eyeglass dropping 
greasily from time to time among the bones. 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 35 


“Will Everard do for you, Rodney? He’s my 
ideal of a bachelor and realizes more perfectly 
than any man I know the Palmerstonian title of 
a gay, eupeptic son of Belial. I always call him 
that myself, and I know it to be a source of much 
inward gratification to him. If you don’t like 
him, I can offer you substitutes almost as good 
as the real thing.” 

Cyril gazed round the room for a time as if he 
were hypnotized. 

“ There’s something in your argument, Lord 
Darlington, but it’s an argument that won’t hold 
any great volume of water. If you like, we’ll 
have a competition : you play your worst examples 
of bachelors and I’ll trump your tricks with the 
married men. We can do you a nice line in mar- 
ried men, Rodney, something to knock spots 
off the bachelors. There’s Duckworth, the little 
whiskered creature in a frock coat. Don’t, 
Rodney, I beg of you, seek consolation in side- 
whiskers. Duckworth tries to compensate him- 
self for the absence of his wife by standing all 
day in the passage upstairs behind the smoking- 
room door, waiting for bashful junior members 
like myself to hurry out and knock him down. 
Then we pick him up and he makes us apologize. 
Take Hamilton, at the next table to Duckworth; 
his mission in life is to collect all the illustrated 
weeklies, sit on them and go to sleep. If you 
don’t like him, take Marklore in the window, 

the man who Oh! don’t go, Lord Darlington, 

I was just getting into my stride.” 


36 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 

“ Rodney, I am going to smoke a cigar in the 
gallery. If you can prevail on Cyril to behave 
like a rational creature, you may bring him. 
Otherwise you may choose between staying with 
him and coming with me.” 

“Oh, please, Lord Darlington, let me come with 
you,” said Cyril; “I will be a model of sweet 
reasonableness.” 

Lord Darlington took his arm. 

“If I weren’t an old and respected member of 
this club, Cyril, I’d smack your head. Who on 
earth proposed you as a member?” 

“Well, you did for one, but there was such a 
mob of supporters that one more or less hardly 
counted. Come on, Rodney, and thank me for 
saving you the ‘thirteenthly and lastly’ of the 
Rev. Lord Darlington’s few well-chosen words.” 

No reply was vouchsafed until coffee and cigars 
had been ordered and the three were comfortably 
ensconced in armchairs round the gallery fireplace. 
Then Lord Darlington took up the parable. 

“Seriously, Cyril ” 

“Seriously, Lord Darlington, you have the 
advantage of me — I am neither an earl nor an 
Oxford don, and for me to speak seriously argues 
an arrested development. Experiment on Ever- 
ard, who shows every menacing sign of joining 
our party. Everard is intensely sober-minded. 
Most of his spare time is spent in volunteering 
didactic advice to people who fancy they are 
already conducting their business with prudence 
and foresight. He convinces them of their error. 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 37 


He tells the Bar how to secure briefs and the City 
how to increase its dividends. Cabinet ministers 
hang on his lips, and experienced housekeepers 
discharge their cooks at his bidding. He closes 
more doors to himself in London by his flow of 
helpful counsel than I could ever hope to do by 
a lifetime of detrimental conduct. At his age I 
shall doubtless do the same. I admit that the 
odd trick goes to you, Lord Darlington. Everard, 
come here and be sacrificed. Lord Darlington is 
playing the Sieur de Maletroit for one night only, 
and insists on someone being married pour en- 
courager les autres. You are regarded as a lusty 
miscreant whose salad days of bachelordom go 
back to a time when I was aglow with youthful 
spanks and Rodney still muled and puked in his 
nurse’s arms.” 

“I cannot allow my name to be mentioned in 
connection., with marriage, even seriously. I will 
deal with the matter in the abstract, or at least 
with one aspect. Why is it that no three men 
can meet in a club without discussing one or more 
of three topics — their stomachs, their other ail- 
ments, and matrimony? That is the order of 
conversation, but marriage rapidly rises like a 
queen bee and slays all rivals. Before the fish is 
removed there is a sauve qui pent and a descent 
to personalities. The Mikado has decreed an 
execution, and Koko, Pooh Bah, and Nankipoo 
all start talking at the same time to point out the 
eminent fitness of the other for the envied posi- 
tion, and their own pitiful unworthiness. For 


38 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


anything I know to the contrary, the practice 
started in the Garden of Eden, between Adam 
and the Serpent, and the glorious tradition has 
been preserved unbroken ever since.” 

“I don’t think much of your ally, Lord Dar- 
lington.” 

“I don’t think much of your uncle, Cyril. He 
is old enough to know better. How old are you, 
Everard?” 

“Oh, a lot less than that, Darlington, and I 
grow younger every day. Contact with people 
like Cyril and Rodney makes me feel strangely 
juvenile and undeveloped.” 

“Contact with Cyril makes me feel glad that 
I was born in another and doubtless duller genera- 
tion.” Lord Darlington was showing signs of 
irritability. “I am sick of the posing of the 
present day; sick to see men of ability and posi- 
tion wasting the best years of their life in absolute 
futility. These neurotics are too busily engaged 
in studying their own morbid symptoms and 
gloating over them, ever to imagine they have a 
public duty to perform. They regard it as in- 
artistic to work at a profession, they are too 
indolent for parliament or the public services, 
and too selfish to do man’s primary duty of raising 
up a decent healthy family for the state. Nothing 
is more contagious than affectation of this kind, 
and a man like Cyril has an incalculable power 
of harm. A dozen fools will follow like sheep 
and believe in the literal truth of nonsense which 
Cyril, with all his faults, is still capable of recog- 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 39 


nizing as nothing but nonsense. I tell you that 
what you young men want is a moral cold bath, 
and if you don’t get it soon I’m sorry for the 
future of your country, but above all I’m sorry 
for your own future. The men won’t put up 
indefinitely with your damned superiority and 
indifference, the women will get tired of your 
hypochondria, and then you’ll be left before 
you’re thirty with nothing to do but nurse an 
enlarged liver and your own intolerable conceit.” 

“The Earl of Darlington starts out to curse 
and stays to bless.” Cyril got up and knocked 
the ash off his cigar. “There was a moment 
to-night when I threw myself into the future and 
saw a middle-aged and friendless bachelor, fat 
and embittered, living at the club sixteen hours 
out of the twenty-four and spending fifteen of 
those sixteen in the contemplation or realization 
of food. For a blinding moment my mental 
balance was overturned, and for a word I would 
have walked out and asked the first woman I met 
to save me from such a fate. The peroration — 
like all perorations — spoiled the speech. We 
ineffectual poseurs have one duty only towards 
the state, and that is to strangle the succession. 
Good-night, Lord Darlington, and a health to 
your Samurai; good-night, Rodney, prosperity 
to you in your search for the Ideal. Everard, 
you had better come with me. An altercation is 
impending, and you might be converted and deny 
your glorious manhood. I am going to Covent 
Garden for the last act of ‘Pelleas.’ There will 


40 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


be room for you in the Morants’ box. Thence to 
Lady Delaunay’s ball to gaze on the fresh, fair 
faces of those who might have been mine, had I 
the heart to spring a race of neurotic hypochon- 
driacs on my uncomplaining motherland.” 

Lord Darlington watched Cyril Fitzroy and his 
uncle strolling away arm-in-arm down the stairs, 
and turned to Rodney with a smile. 

“A fairly hopeless couple, aren’t they, Rod- 
ney?” he remarked. “I think there must be a 
taint in the Fitzroy blood somewhere. I’ve known 
Everard for twenty years and hardly hope to 
reform him , but it is a little staggering to find in 
Cyril at twenty-three a pocket edition of his 
uncle at fifty. Strange and wonderful creatures 
are the Fitzroys.” 

“In what way?” 

“Well, take Everard. He made enough money 
before he was thirty to relieve him of the neces- 
sity of doing a hand’s turn for the rest of his life, 
and with the remorseless logic of the Fitzroy brain 
he has done no work since. He lives in Egypt 
or Algiers during the winter and on the coast of 
France during the summer. The spring he spends 
in England, playing bridge, dining at the club, 
giving an exhibition of some of the worst golf in 
the three kingdoms, and dropping oracular pro- 
nouncements in the course of domestic politics. 
He has friends in the ministry with whom he dis- 
courses learnedly, and I believe he really fancies 
that they drink at the fount of widsom which he 
offers them and shape their policy accordingly.” 

“A harmless life, at any rate.” 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 41 


“I don’t agree. It is bad to see a man of his 
ability deliberately resolving to be useless, it is 
bad to see a young man like Cyril trying to walk 
in Everard’s footsteps, and it is bad to see Ever- 
ard’s own degeneration.” 

“But his own degeneration is surely a matter 
which concerns him alone.” 

“Unfortunately, no. It is practically impos- 
sible to anyone to avoid exerting a certain amount 
of influence on his neighbors, but when a man of 
malice aforethought goes out of his way to inter- 
fere with everyone he meets, he has the makings 
of a fair public nuisance. Everard is a clever 
and observant man with quite a talent for dis- 
covering the weak place in others and a mis- 
chievous love of making remarks which he knows 
will cause unnecessary pain. After a few years 
one either ignores him or quarrels with him; 
I ignore him, but most of his relations have quar- 
reled with him. He talks to women of the tragedy 
of growing old and fat, tells husbands that they 
are trodden under foot by their wives, tells the 
wives that they don’t know how to bring up their 
children, tells the children that it was a lament- 
able day for the world and themselves when their 
parents met. And he is nearly always right. 
Then when he has exhausted his quiver, he packs 
his bag and retires into solitude for six months to 
play golf, strum on the piano, and mature a fresh 
stock of mordant sarcasms for the occasion of his 
next entry into society.” 

“And are you afraid of Cyril becoming like 
that when he is Everard’s age?” 


42 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“That, or something like it. At present he 
rather ostentatiously refuses to interest himself 
in anyone’s affairs but his own. How long that 
will last I cannot say. I want to get him settled 
to the collar before he has time to develop any 
more Fitzroy characteristics.” 

“What about the other members of the family?” 

“You mean Cyril’s brothers? I don’t know 
them so well. Hugo was dining here to-night and 
may possibly join us later on. The other I have 
only met once.” 

“He and Cyril stand at opposite poles. Cyril 
always speaks of him as the most perfectly pre- 
served example of palaeolithic man — which is 
another way of saying that Arthur’s ideas are a 
little out of date. I suppose they are somewhat; 
anyway, Cyril is a source of constant anxiety to 
him, and Arthur lives in an atmosphere of expo- 
sures, actions for breach of promise, family scan- 
dals, and so forth, with the divorce court or bank- 
ruptcy court never more than ten minutes from 
his mind.” 

“I imagine the effect on Cyril is rather less 
than nothing?” 

“Exactly. Do you remember a remark of 
Dr. Johnson’s about Dr. Taylor? ‘Sir, no man 
likes to live under the eye of perpetual disappro- 
bation,’ or something of the kind. Dr. Johnson 
never had the advantage of our young friend’s 
acquaintanceship or he would have modified his 
views. I fancy disapprobation is meat and drink 
to Cyril. He does something more than usually 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS' CLUB 43 


preposterous and then sits down outside his 
brother's cave to await developments. Out 
comes Arthur, a particularly well-nourished speci- 
men of primitive man suitably attired in goatskin, 
club, and gold pince-nez. He talks long and sadly 
about the life Cyril is leading and the end to 
which it will infallibly bring him. Then when 
the whole treasury of ripe Stone Age wisdom has 
been lavishly expended, he picks up his club and 
returns to his cave, while Cyril scores a mark in 
the sand to show that there has been a safe draw. 
The whole thing has been pictorially represented 
by Hugo, who shows signs of developing into a 
black and white artist of the most libelous order." 

“Talk of an angel." Lord Darlington had 
caught sight of Hugo Fitzroy and a friend walking 
in the direction of the card-room. “It would be 
a pity not to complete our study of the Fitzroy 
family when we have another example of it so 
close at hand." He called over the gallery, and 
the two men deflected their course in his direc- 
tion. “Do you know young Mortimer Forrest, 
Rodney? He's an old Bailey barrister and one 
of the shining lights of my Samurai." 

“I know him slightly. He cultivates the old- 
est and most responsible court manner of anyone 
I have ever met. To see him finger a purely 
decorative pair of glasses, hammer the groaning 
dinner-table, and exclaim, 'In cases like these 
you can't get a jury to convict,' and similar 
phrases, makes you feel that the oldest King’s 
Counsel has still something of criminal procedure 
to learn at the feet of Mortimer Forrest." 


44 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Lord Darlington smiled and turned to the new- 
comers. 

“ Rodney is making game of your ultra-profes- 
sional manner, Morty. You had better defend 
it, or better still, explain for the benefit of poster- 
ity how it may be acquired.” 

“ Simplest thing in the world/’ interposed Hugo 
Fitzroy, selecting a chair. “ Morty never answers 
letters and seldom turns up to dinner when he 
is most expected. His friends are then left to 
console themselves with the belief that he must 
have a practice of bewildering dimensions to make 
him so careless of the ordinary usages of polite 
society.” 

Morty Forrest sighed wearily and addressed 
himself to Lord Darlington. 

“You brought it on yourself, Lord Darlington, 
by asking Hugo to join you. Haven’t you had 
enough of the Fitzroys yet? I saw you were 
talking to Everard and Cyril half an hour ago; 
you mustn’t let this sort of thing become a morbid 
craving.” 

“Rodney and I are just taking a run through 
the family to try to find one Just Man. We 
thought Hugo might fill the bill.” 

“I feel I have better qualities for the part than 
Everard or Cyril,” remarked Hugo. “But what 
is required of the Just Man, and what reward 
does he reap?” 

Rodney took upon himself to answer. “He is 
required to marry a wife in order to keep him 
from becoming like his uncle Everard, and to 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 45 


join the Samurai and devote himself to becoming 
a useful member of society to prevent him growing 
like his young brother Cyril.” 

“And the reward?” 

“Is it not enough reward, is it not sufficient 
cause for thanksgiving to escape those two fates?” 

“It is an intangible and negative reward. I 
do not propose to become like Everard or Cyril 
in any case.” 

“You can’t escape it unless you take yourself 
in hand and adopt the proper precautions. That 
was the gist of Lord Darlington’s homily to Cyril 
at dinner.” 

“And the proper precautions are marriage and 
the Samurai?” 

“Leaving marriage on one side for the moment, 
what — without prejudice — is involved by the 
Samurai?” 

“You must get Lord Darlington to tell you. 
I am only a lay brother.” 

“Do you want to know, seriously and not for 
the purpose of cheap witticism?” asked Lord 
Darlington. 

Hugo nodded. 

“Well, I will try to explain it.” 

Lord Darlington leaned forward and addressed 
himself to the three young men whose armchairs 
formed a semicircle before him. He spoke slowly 
and without undue warmth, depending on the 
subject-matter to interest his hearers, without 
having recourse to a highly colored vocabulary, 
an emotional voice or a gesticulating manner. 


46 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


He carried them back a quarter of a century 
to a night when he and two friends were discus- 
sing their futures and the future of their country, 
in the rooms at Oxford which he was on the eve 
of quitting for the last time. They had been 
brought together by a common interest in phil- 
anthropic work and were wondering to what extent 
the new life upon which they were all entering 
would interfere with the work they had begun 
and desired to carry to a conclusion. And as 
they talked on into the early morning, he had 
laid before them a scheme which was to satisfy 
their own requirements and furnish an outlet 
for all the disinterested and generous impulses 
which were to be found in men of their age and 
position. They were to found a brotherhood of 
Samurai, and their mission should be to offer 
the example of a new way of life and make a new 
nation of England. He had told his friends that 
the cleavage between classes was becoming daily 
more pronounced: the poor knew as little of the 
rich, the way they lived and the services they 
rendered, as the rich knew of the poor and their 
conditions and requirements. England was not 
one nation but several, and it was the task of the 
Samurai to learn and teach. They were to gather 
together the young men of the country before age 
had crystallized their habits or disillusion damped 
their ardor, and each was to spend according to 
the number of his talents. 

He told them of the early history of the brother- 
hood, how in spite of rebuffs and humiliations they 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 47 


had persevered, how an ever-increasing number of 
enthusiasts had gone to the Samurai settlement, 
living with the poor and studying their life. 
They had faced the problems of poverty one by 
one, explaining in high places the urgency of reform 
and in the East End the difficulties with which 
reform was compassed about. Statistics had 
been compiled, lectures delivered throughout the 
land, from time to time a member of the brother- 
hood had been elected to parliament and had 
built there on the foundations laid in the settle- 
ment. There had been Laodiceans in that com- 
munity as in every other, but it was worth noting 
how few failed to be infected with the enthusiasm 
of their fellow-workers, and of those who turned 
back, how many found that the work exercised 
over them a fascination which led them to plunge 
afresh into its midst. And the enthusiasm had 
not been all on one side. As the work of enlighten- 
ment went on, it had been possible to clear away 
much of the mutual suspicion with which poor 
and rich had been wont to regard each other. 
The ideals of modern policy had been expounded, 
and the difficulties, too, which the statesmanship 
of the best brains in the land were trying to 
surmount. 

The sphere of their activities was not limited. 
Anyone might propound a suggestion for im- 
proving the conditions of modern civilized life 
and setting a higher ideal before his fellow-man. 
The names were mentioned of some who had 
devoted their energies to reforming the course of 


48 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


education in the universities, of others who had 
given themselves up to the cause of international 
peace. Many of the Samurai after their novitiate 
never found time to visit the settlement, but their 
work went on the world over and the enthusiasm 
which they had drunk in during those first few 
years never left them. 

Lord Darlington turned to Hugo Fitzroy. 

“Come and see us and we will find work for 
you to do. What is more, we will make you want 
to do it. You will fall under the spell as Morty 
has done, and Rodney, and a score more of your 
friends. Many people come to us doubting and 
jeering, listless and uninterested, but no man has 
ever remained indifferent after a week with us.” 
He leaned back in his chair with shining eyes. 

“IT come, Lord Darlington, but I don’t know 
that I can do much good.” 

“So long as you come, I will answer for our suc- 
cess in extracting all the good which bounteous 
providence has put into you. Cyril is almost 
my only failure, and I believe that I could put 
enthusiasm into him if he would only cross our 
threshold.” 

“That’s what he’s afraid of,” said Rodney. 
“To quote one of Wilde’s characters, Argument 
is always vulgar and often convincing.’ Be 
content with having secured one member of a 
very unpromising family as a convert.” 

“Ah, but I w r ant Cyril too.” 

“He would be flattered if he knew how large a 
part he played in your schemes for the regeneration 
of mankind. Why is he so important?” 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 49 


Lord Darlington’s face grew grave. 

“Do you read Balzac? Good. Until a man 
has read the ‘Comedie Humaine’ his education 
has not begun. You remember Vautrin, the 
escaped convict, whose passion it was to dominate 
society? He could not do it in his own person, so 
he sought a young man and labored to bring him 
into a commanding position, impress his personal- 
ity upon him and enjoy the vicarious triumphs of 
an adopted son. I feel rather like Vautrin. 
I’ve got no son of my own now, but I see Cyril 
so much in my house that at times — when he’s 
not been annoying me as he did to-night — I 
almost begin to look upon him as my own son and 
to think what I could do if I were able to graft 
my ideas and enthusiasms on to him. I shall 
soon be fifty, and the younger men will have to 
be preparing to take the reins. However, as you 
say, Rodney, I’ve secured one convert to-night, 
and we won’t discuss the Samurai any more 
till he’s seen them at work. What does anyone 
say to a game of bridge?” 

Rodney looked at his watch. “Not for me, 
I am afraid. I promised to get to Lady Delau- 
nay’s at eleven sharp, and it’s a quarter to, now.” 

“Well, there’s time for a cigarette and a little 
whiskey first.” He called a waiter, and threw 
his cigarette case to Rodney. “The young man 
of the present day is less gallant than he used 
to be. When I was your age I never dared smoke 
before going to a ball for fear of making my 
clothes smell of tobacco. I notice that our friend 


4 


50 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Cyril always smokes a larger and stronger cigar 
than usual in preparation for the fatigues of ball- 
dancing. I had to speak to him about it last 
week.” 

“What did he say?” 

“What you might have expected him to say. 
‘If people wish to dance with me, they must be 
prepared to make some sacrifices.’ What are 
you looking for — a match?” He threw one 
which was lost to view under the chair. “I had 
better throw you the box.” 

Rodney assumed an attitude as similar to that 
of a wicket-keeper as was consistent with a recum- 
bent position in an armchair, and remarked, 
“Hard in to the wicket!” It was an unwise 
order to give. If four years at the House had 
taught him nothing else, they should have taught 
him that a well-filled box of club matches striking 
the hands with considerable force will in nine 
cases out of ten explode with vigor and illumina- 
tion. Rodney jumped from his chair with an 
ill-suppressed yell, dropping the blazing match- 
box and kicking it from the carpet into a neighbor- 
ing fireplace. Lord Darlington hastened to him 
with profuse apologies. 

“My dear Rodney, I am so sorry! I had no 
idea it would go off; I hope you’re not hurt.” 

“Not personally, thanks. I think the carpet is 
the main sufferer.” There was an unmistakable 
smell of burning and he bent down to investigate 
it, catching sight as he did so of a yellow mark 
on the right knee of his trousers. He brushed it 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 51 


with his hand and the mark yielded to treatment 
with a promptitude as unexpected as it was 
undesired, by retiring from view and leaving a 
circular hole the size of half a crown through 
which gleamed the whiteness of a silk under- 
garment. 

“ That’s finished it,” he remarked plaintively. 
“Can anyone tell me of any place in London 
where I can procure a reasonably well-fitting pair 
of ready-made dress trousers at 10.55 p.m.?” 

Mortimer Forrest roused himself with an effort 
and momentarily abandoned the air of extreme 
lassitude which he felt to be demanded of one 
whose day has presumably been spent in attend- 
ance on an extensive and exhausting court 
practice. 

“Never buy when you can borrow, Rodney. 
See rather whether we can’t fix up something 
between us. Hugo, you’re too broad in the beam. 
Why do the Fitzroys, with the single exception 
of Cyril, become so gross in early middle fife? 
Lord Darlington, you’re not tall enough. It 
looks as if it would have to be me. Rodney, I 
boast the glorious circumstance of possessing 
four pairs of dress trousers still moderately inno- 
cent of any art-green shades. One pair I am 
wearing, three I sent this morning to be pressed, 
and they ought to be back by now. Come with 
me and I will make you free of them, one pair 
to wear and two to be left in the cloak-room with 
your spare collar and waistcoat. And if they’re 
still at the tailor’s, I will divest myself of man’s 


52 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


last privilege — the right to wear trousers — and 
you shall wear them in my stead.” 

“It’s very good of you, Morty. Where are 
you living now?” 

“Kensington.” 

“Kensington?” murmured Hugo, knowing it to 
be a tender subject. “Ah, I remember now, 
down in the west of England, where the dialect 
songs come from. Don’t go there, Rodney, you’ll 
'be lost or waylaid by highwaymen. Why not 
drive down to the Temple, knock up Cyril’s man, 
and steal a pair of Cyril’s nether garments?” 

“Yes, but what if the man isn’t there?” 

“Then I can’t help you, as I haven’t a key to 
his rooms. You won’t be in a worse position 
anyhow — except by about a quarter of an hour, 
as you can then accept Morty’s offer. You’re 
going to be late, in any event. If you’re lucky 
and can get into Cyril’s place, you will only be 
a quarter of an hour late. If you go with Morty 
you’ll be at least an hour late.” 

Rodney turned to Mortimer Forrest. 

“I think I’ll try the Temple first, Morty, and 
fall back on you if I’m out of luck there. Good- 
bye, all of you. Many thanks, Lord Darlington, 
for a most admirable dinner.” 

He disappeared down the stairs, ran across the 
hall and into the street. 

“What a thing is youth!” remarked Hugo. 
“Or rather, in Rodney it is arrested development. 
He is a year older than I am, and yet rather than 
sacrifice a night’s rest to elbowing a crowd in an 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 53 


overheated room, I would gladly burn one pair 
of dress trousers nightly.” 

“ Rodney’s case is rather unusual to-night,” 
said Lord Darlington confidentially. “I happen 
to know that he is going to receive an answer to 
a certain question, and that the answer will secure 
or destroy his happiness for life, as the sentimental 
novelists say.” 

“Good heavens!” Hugo jerked himself upright 
in his chair. “This is most distressing news, 
Lord Darlington. Who is the unfortunate woman? 
what is she like? and how has she been able to 
succeed where so many have failed?” 

“One question at a time. I know her by name, 
though I am not at liberty to reveal it. Rodney 
says she has all the virtues and graces ever put 
into woman, but not having seen her I am unable 
to check the accuracy of the description. How 
she has been able to capture his wayward affec- 
tions I also cannot say, but I demur to the word 
‘ unfortunate ’ in connection with her and cannot 
agree that it is distressing news.” 

“You forget, Hugo, that the Samurai alone will 
not save a man,” interposed Mortimer Forrest. 
“Marriage is another necessity of salvation, and 
as soon as Lord Darlington has fairly taken you 
in hand, you will have to begin looking about for 
a wife.” 

“I have been looking for a wife without inter- 
mission for ten years. Indeed, I have even tried 
to simplify the quest by drawing up a short table 
of questions: ‘What is your income? Do you 


54 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


snore? Do you talk at breakfast? Do you per- 
mit haddock or yellow chrysanthemums at break- 
fast? What rules do you adopt about fresh air 
and open windows? In the event of our having 
only one bathroom, how long will you occupy it 
in the morning ?’ There are several more, but 
I have left the list at home, as I did not expect 
to want it to-night. Between ourselves, I may 
tell you that no woman I have ever met has sur- 
vived even the first column . 77 

“And so, in spite of the most laudable and per- 
sistent endeavors, you remain a bachelor ? 77 

“I do, and there is a special poignancy about 
my case. I am the only person of my acquaint- 
ance who is deliberately and cold-bloodedly try- 
ing to get married. And I can’t bring it off. 
People like Cyril set their faces against the insti- 
tution and some of them succeed in remaining 
single, but most people are like Rodney and Morty : 
they don’t in the least want to get married, but 
they drift into it without being able to justify 
their position at any single moment. I feel very 
sorry for myself . 77 

“I am sure Lord Darlington and I sympathize 
with you. At a time when the world is over- 
stocked with women it is distressing to see a 
deserving and desirous man simply becoming 
shop-soiled for want of a purchaser. It is dif- 
ferent for me; I can’t afford time or money to 
get married.” 

“What nonsense you men talk,” said Lord 
Darlington with a laugh. “The first mistake you 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 55 


make is in thinking you can get a wife without 
working for her, and the second is in fancying 
you can work without a wife. The young man 
of the present day is too luxuriously brought up, 
habituated to too many comforts which he grows 
to regard as necessary to his life. Consequently 
he spends several years looking for a rich wife 
who will enable him to marry without sacrificing 
any of the material comfort to which he has been 
accustomed. Well, take it from me that the 
number of rich women in England is strictly 
limited, and the number of rich women prepared 
to marry practicing barristers as yet not in sight 
of the bench or the woolsack is smaller still. 
That’s my first word of wisdom to you, and the 
second is this. You will none of you do decent 
work till you’ve got a wife to work for: the best 
years of Jacob’s life were the ones when he was 
laboring for Leah and Rachel, and it is the same 
with both of you. Money by itself is not a suf- 
ficient stimulus, nor the good things of this world 
which money buys. Every year that you put 
off taking the step you will become blunted and 
narrowed; nature, which intended you to marry, 
will punish you for not marrying, and in the end 
you will become like some of the members of this 
club — Everard for example. But when you’ve 
got wives who will share in your triumphs and 
your troubles, rejoicing with you when you want 
to rejoice and comforting you when you need 
comfort; when you feel that every brief you hold 
is adding to the happiness and prosperity of your 


56 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


wife and children, then you will work with a zest 
that is now quite unknown to you. That is why 
I hope to-night is going to be a turning-point in 
Rodney’s career, and why I believe that mar- 
riage will be the only thing capable of turning 
Cyril to useful account in this world.” 

“Yes, but I always think the real difficulty 
lies here; I have never met the woman with 
whom I thought I could live in even moderate 
harmony for more than three weeks, let alone for 
a lifetime which we should both spend in finding 
new incongruities in the other. And if I did meet 
her I am not at all sure that she could put up 
with more than about a fortnight of my company. 
As for finding a woman whom I should feel to 
be necessary to me — without whom my life would 
be incomplete and purposeless — well, so far I am 
happily unconscious of the aching void.” 

“Ah, but Lord Darlington’s right.” Mortimer 
Forrest spoke with a conviction worthy of an Old 
Bailey defence. “The great workers of the 
world have drawn their inspiration from woman, 
and I believe that without women the flows of 
inspiration will run dry. I feel it to be so in my 
case. I have taken my inspiration, my stimulus 
to do my best work, from different sources at 
different times. I worked under the spell of 
music : that was short-lived. I think the stimulus 
was too purely sensual. Then I tried working 
in the Samurai settlement: I drew inspiration 
from there for a time — but I feel it is losing its 
grip on me, or my emotions are less responsive. 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS’ CLUB 57 


At one time I derived my whole motive power 
from religion and an ornate ritual, but that is 
passing, and by a process of exclusion I come to 
think that in marrying a wife — as Lord Darling- 
ton says — I shall find the sympathy and stimulus 
I need. Anyway, it is worth trying. If we don’t 
like it — we can make tracks for the divorce 
court.” 

Lord Darlington interposed. 

“You’re not giving marriage a fair trial if you 
regard the divorce court as even a possibility. 
Speaking eugenically, there is no greater harm 
which you can do to your children than to deprive 
them of the educative influence of one of their 
parents. You will never learn to love your wife 
if at the back of your mind you are feeling that 
at the first difference of opinion you can dissolve 
partnership.” 

“It is rather a difficult point; eugenics and 
religion come in conflict. Eugenically, I think 
man probably produces a better stock by con- 
sorting with numerous women and drawing in- 
spiration from several sources than if he confines 
himself to one. The teaching of the Church is 
against such a theory, I know.” 

“Well, Morty,” said Hugo, “have you got over 
my difficulty of finding a woman you could toler- 
ate for a fortnight, or one who could tolerate you 
for a week?” 

“No* yet. I admit my requirements are exact- 
ing. I want someone who is musical, to come 
with me to ‘ Monday Pops.’ And somebody who 


58 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


is interested in social work and will come to the 
settlement on Tuesdays ” 

“It looks like freckles, red hair, and spectacles/’ 
remarked Hugo. 

“Exactly, and that I could not stand. I can 
draw no inspiration from freckles and red hair. 
On Wednesday I should want her to come out 
with me to dinner and a theatre and possibly go 
on to a ball. On Thursday we should devote 
ourselves to the domestic fireside. Can you sug- 
gest any likely candidates, Hugo?” 

“What about Mildred Langley? Oh, I forgot, 
she’s your cousin and eugenically she is ruled 
out.” 

“Not necessarily. If I inherit my father’s 
characteristics and she inherits her father’s char- 
acteristics, we don’t make any call on the blood 
of our mothers, which is our sole physical affinity. 
Cousin marriage is not barred in tolo by eugenics. 
But Mildred would not have me. She’s an Evan- 
gelical and I’m a Catholic. On Fridays I should 
want her to attend Compline.” 

“If you married her sister Audrey there would 
be no difficulty about that; to get a husband 
Audrey would embrace any doctrine which the 
fertile mind of man has ever devised.” 

“Yes, I think Audrey would say, ‘Morty is 
worth a Mass.’ But I am not marrying Audrey 
just at present. I hardly feel I should stand the 
wear and strain of such a union.” 

As he finished speaking a page boy approached 
with a message. 


DINNER AT THE CYNICS' CLUB 59 

“Beg pardon, sir, but there's a gentleman out- 
side in a taxi, asking for you most particularly." 

Mortimer jumped up and made for the staircase. 

“Good-night, Lord Darlington; it is still the 
Quest of the Holy Trouser. Good-night, Hugo; 
don't let Lord Darlington carry you out of your 
depth, or if he does, remember that I can only 
spare time to act as best man between the hours 
of one and two-thirty in vacation." 


CHAPTER III 


lady Delaunay’s ball 

‘ ‘Then I heard a strain of music 
So mighty, so pure, so clear, 

That my very sorrow was silent 
Any my heart stood still to hear.” 

L ADY Delaunay’s ball had been upwards of 
an hour and a half in progress when Ever- 
J ard and Cyril Fitzroy drove into St. James’s 
Square. Scattered couples were cooling 
themselves in remote corners of the square, to 
the usual undisguised delight of the London crowd, 
and one young man, afflicted through life with 
a craving for the incongruous, was observed to 
be taking his partner at a smart pace through 
the objects of historical or other interest from 
the London library to the house, unmistakably 
ticketed, where the younger Pitt spent several 
years of his illustrious existence. 

Cyril jumped out of the taxi, paid the driver, 
and shook his uncle by the hand. 

“Now, Everard, our paths diverge. If you 
insist on coming to this ball it must be without 
my countenance. You say you know Lady 
Delaunay and that she will be delighted to see 
you. Both statements bear the stamp of the 
( 60 ) 


LADY DELAUNAY’S BALL 


61 


incredible. If she knows you, why does she not 
invite you? Or rather — why should she invite 
you? In any case, what possible excuse can you 
have for saying she will be glad to see you? You 
have come here for supper, nothing less and noth- 
ing more, and I will be no party to subterfuges 
devised to mask that gross and fleshly considera- 
tion.” 

Cyril ran up the steps into the house, deposited 
his hat and coat with a sad but unspeakably 
dignified functionary in the morning-room, and 
advanced to receive his hostess’s greeting at the 
head of the stairs. An interval was taking place 
between the dances and the ball-room wore a 
deserted appearance. Cyril cast a roving eye 
round the room and strolled over towards a mir- 
ror, before which he observed his friend John 
Stanford ruefully contemplating the effect of 
violent exercise, a hot room, and a tendency to 
embonpoint upon the virginal purity of his collar 
and shirt-front. 

“It’s no good, Johnny. Nature will have her 
revenge. Your gross habits are finding you out. 
Never mind, you may come and smoke the next 
dance with me and tell me who’s here.” 

“Hullo, Cyril, just reserve your personalities 
till you’ve done the work I’ve been through. 
Debutantes run to lumpiness this season, and I’ve 
been filling the breach to some effect since the 
evening started. Your turn’s just coming.” 

“My dear Johnny, I am positively here for five 
minutes only. I came at the eleventh hour to 


62 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


admire the shirt-fronts of those like yourself who 
have borne the heat and burden of the debutantes, 
and now I shall retire discreetly to bed. That 
is, unless you will come and discuss one or more 
plovers’ eggs with me in the supper-room.” 

“My dear boy, you mustn’t dream of leaving 
yet. This place is teeming with unsuspected 
people to whom you will have to offer your manly 
arm. Besides, Guy is making a tour of the house 
to find or found a bridge-room and you’d better 
come and make a fourth. Clarence is coming. 
Hullo, there goes the music. It’s Murano’s band 
and he’s in rather good form. I suspect there 
have been deep and unwise potations.” 

“Murano tempts me to stay even more than the 
alluring prospect of bridge with you. Who’s 
there to dance with? I rather fancy the study 
in brown by the window — no, not that one — 
there — now you see, with the spray of William 
Allen Richardsons in her hair. Who is she, 
Johnny?” 

“Oh, that’s Myra Woodbridge, Lady Delau- 
nay’s niece. The ball’s being given in her honor. 
You’ll get no satisfaction there, my boy, she’s 
saving herself up for another.” 

“Who’s the happy man, Johnny? You?” 

“No, strange as it may seem, not even me, but 
Rodney Trelawney. You must have seen them 
earlier in the season; they were dancing together 
the livelong evening. I’m prepared to take a 
small bet that Rodney comes up to scratch 
to-night.” 


LADY DELAUNAY’S BALL 


63 


“A vulgar phrase, Johnny, but I let it pass. 
What I want to know is why Rodney doesn’t 
come to claim the sweets of victory instead of 
leaving the adorable Myra to languish in soli- 
tude.” 

“The adorable Myra has been busily employed 
up to this moment in standing with her aunt at 
the door and wasting her sweetness on the ar- 
riving guests like yourself, numerous as the sand 
on the seashore and — to her — quite as uninter- 
esting.” 

Cyril kept his eyes fixed on the subject of then- 
discussion and smiled to himself. If this were 
the girl who was to satisfy all Rodney’s exacting 
canons and capture his affections after so many 
years of wayward wandering, she would repay a 
closer examination than it had been possible to 
carry out in the moment of time that it had 
taken her to pass from the curbstone of St. 
James’s Street into Rumpelmayers. At the first 
glance there was nothing in the appearance of 
Myra Woodbridge to mark her out from her 
fellows. She was of medium height, slim and 
rather pale, with a wealth of light-brown hair 
parted at the side like a boy’s and caught up with 
a spray of roses at the right ear. The small 
mouth with its small regular teeth and baffling 
smile hardly called for comment; the finely 
molded nose and small ears half hidden by the 
low sweep of the hair were exactly what would 
have been expected of the face. The harmony 
in size and shape and coloring was so perfect as 


64 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


to be unnoticeable. Cyril reflected critically as 
he looked at her that it would require the presence 
of some defect in the regularity of the features to 
emphasize fully and by contrast their perfect 
fitness and subtle finish. 

If the regular molding of the face were taken 
as a matter of course and hardly noticed, it is 
probable that an idle observer would be drawn 
to look a second time at Myra Woodbridge, to 
study the eyes and try to fathom the thoughts 
hidden in their depths. The eyes themselves 
were remarkable for their unusually rich shade of 
brown which suffused iris and pupil alike with 
exceptional warmth: more noticeable still was 
their owner's habit of using them to look straight 
into the eyes of anyone with whom she was talk- 
ing, hardly shifting her gaze for the length of the 
conversation. Many people were disconcerted 
by the trick; it gave Myra the appearance of 
taking more than she gave, and perhaps tearing 
down a veil here and there that would have been 
proof against the spoken word. Cyril had the 
same habit and had been rebuked for it more 
than once. He wondered idly which diamond 
would cut the harder. 

“Johnny, at least until Rodney's arrival, I 
propose to dance with the fascinating Myra. 
Possibly I shall continue after Rodney comes. 
We must just see how we get on." 

“You may take it from me, my dear boy, she 
will refuse you." 

“I will take it from you, Johnny, that she 


LADY DELAUNAY’S BALL 


65 


has already refused you. Nothing more than 
that. Further, I will show my contempt for your 
opinion by betting one hundred cigarettes — of a 
price and brand to be mutually agreed upon — 
that she takes the next dance with me, and a 
further fifty that she continues dancing with me 
for two complete dances after Rodney’s arrival. 
Here’s Clarence, he shall hold the stakes.” 

“ ‘God gie us a gude conceit of ourselves.’ 
My dear boy, I don’t bet on certainties. Go and 
exert your powers of fascination upon the fair 
Myra. It will be sufficient recompense for Clar- 
ence and me to stand here and watch your dis- 
comfiture.” 

Cyril crossed the room without deigning a 
reply. The waltz was in full swing and the 
straggling crowd at the door, after a period of 
neck-craning in search of partners, broke up into 
couples and was swept into the stream. Myra 
Woodbridge had retired into the cool seclusion 
of a balcony and was trying with little apparent 
success to clasp the rather complicated fastening 
of her necklace. 

“May I be lady’s maid, Miss Woodbridge? I 
saw you were having difficulties.” 

“And at once rushed to my rescue with a 
promptitude worthy of a better cause? That 
was really nice of you. Well, I should be grate- 
ful if you would fasten this for me. I can’t see 
the catch and my hands are so clumsy in these 
gloves.” 

“I imagine the obvious and expected retort 


66 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


would be to the effect that those fair hands could 
never be clumsy; but speaking as one intensely 
complex person to another — I shall refrain from 
making it. The obvious is too much with us. 
I have been talking to Johnny Stanford who is 
morbidly obvious and rather fat. You can see 
and identify his repartees a mile off.” 

Cyril had taken off his gloves as he spoke and 
now addressed himself to the task of fastening 
the necklace. The catch was slightly bent and 
showed a strong objection to performing its 
function. Cyril had struggled for perhaps two 
minutes before achieving success, and in the 
meantime was well aware of the disability under 
which he labored. His field of vision was confined 
to the white throat and chin before him, and he 
was conscious that Myra was employing her 
leisure in an unhurried contemplation of himself. 
On the whole, the examination was favorable, 
though she felt improvement would have been 
possible in more directions than one. The hair 
was of a lighter brown than her own and over 
the temples showed an admixture of gold, but the 
whole was too fine and silky to be lasting, and 
Myra fixed forty as the age when he would have 
to struggle with deadly effort to ward off the 
hand of a desecrating baldness. Her gaze wan- 
dered down over the broad, rather high forehead 
and rested on the eyes. They were large, almost 
too large, with the deep blue of the amethyst. 
Myra marked them as the best feature of the 
face, qualified by the reflection that the pupil 


LADY DELAUNAY'S BALL 


67 


was continually dilating till the whole eye seemed 
black, a habit that argued nervous excitability 
or violence of temper. She wondered which — 
and decided that it would have been a better 
face if the eyes had been less hollow, the cheeks 
less sunken, the nose and mouth less thin and 
hard. She remembered a phrase of Rodney’s, 
“the face of an early Christian ascetic requiring 
a background of stained glass,” and was weigh- 
ing the justice of the description, when Cyril 
snapped the catch and looked up to meet her 
eyes. 

“Well, Miss Woodbridge,” he remarked, “what 
is the verdict to be?” 

“The verdict? I did not know I was supposed 
to be considering one. What is the point at 
issue?” 

“Miss Woodbridge, I own to twenty- three ; 
and I should say you were between seventeen and 
twenty. You are faced with more than forty 
years’ knowledge of the world and humanity’s 
ways therein, and you dare to pretend ignorance 
of the problem you have been considering?” 

Myra laughed. 

“This, I suppose, is the modern version of ‘A 
penny for your thoughts,’ the variation from the 
old consisting in the absence of the penny. If 
you know my thoughts in the light of your own 
and my accumulated experience of humanity, 
you have my full permission to make them public, 
though I won’t promise to gratify your curiosity 
by saying if the guess is a good one.” 


68 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“This is not a matter of guessing, my dear 
lady, it is a matter of certain knowledge. I know 
I am right without your assurance on the point. 
All I ask is to be told the result.” 

“Tell me what the question is and I will try to 
answer it.” 

“You concede that there has been a question. 
That is one point gained. The question you have 
been considering is simply this — ‘ Is he ’ (meaning 
me) ‘ worth it?’ ” 

“Worth what?” 

“Miss Woodbridge, you are making difficulties. 
You shall have the question in extenso put into 
your own lips. ‘Here am I momentarily empty- 
handed. I have finished welcoming my aunt’s 
guests — the Expected One has not yet arrived. 
A possible Diversion presents itself. Why not 
dance with the Diversion till the Expected One 
turns up? Query — Is the Diversion sufficiently 
amusing? or, in the shorter formula — Is he worth 
it?’ Now the answer, Miss Woodbridge, — Yes, 
or no?” 

“Not in one word; that would be an admission 
of the accuracy of the question. If you say: 
Is the Diversion sufficiently amusing for me to 
dance with? I answer yes, and you may dance 
with me as long as you can keep me amused.” 

“You resent my mention of the Expected One, 
Miss Woodbridge?” Cyril was watching her 
narrowly. 

“Not ‘resent’ rather ‘reject.’ There is no 
Expected One.” 


LADY DELAUNAY'S BALL 


69 


“I note the use of the present tense, and be- 
fore we dismiss the subject forever into oblivion, 
let me say a word for the defaulter. He is en- 
gaged in good work, discussing schemes for my 
moral regeneration. I dined with him hours ago, 
and when I went to the opera he and Lord Dar- 
lington were warming nicely to the work. Be 
gracious to him when he comes. I speak disin- 
terestedly, as it will mean curtailing my own 
share of your programme." 

“ Before we go any further, let us clear up 
preliminaries. You apparently know my name, 
but what am I to call you?" 

“ You will never get to know me unless you call 
me Cyril, just as I shall never begin to under- 
stand you till I call you Myra. Perhaps you 
prefer a little distance. In that case it must be 
Mr. Fitzroy, but I don’t think that was the answer 
you wanted, as you knew my name was Fitzroy 
long before I told you, and you have probably 
discussed me at length with Rodney. Rodney 
discusses me wherever he goes. He holds me out 
at arm’s length as an awful example of what he 
calls ‘ Decadence/ and tells people I am without 
soul and void. That is because I refuse to join 
the Special Reserve or to take him seriously. 
But let’s leave Rodney and his works behind us. 
They’re starting the ‘Rosenkavalier’ and it’s a 
crime to miss a bar of it." 

An hour later Lady Delaunay approached 
Everard Fitzroy. 

“My dear Everard," she began. “I am so 


70 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


sorry not to have had a word with you before. 
I have been busy feeding the dowagers. You are 
never likely to give dances, Everard, but if you 
do, remember never to neglect your dowagers. 
Give them a square meal at eleven and light 
refreshments every half-hour afterwards. Then 
they aren’t anxious to sit in the ball-room and 
keep all the windows shut, so the children, poor 
dears, can get as much ventilation and chills as 
they like. Now I want supper myself, Everard, 
and if you’ve not marked out the beauty of the 
evening for your own attentions, be charitable 
and take me down. I have hardly got over my 
first surprise at seeing you at a ball. I thought 
you went to bed at about ten — in silk pajamas at 
£5 a pair, and stayed there for twelve hours out 
of the twenty-four.” 

“My dear lady, there is a time for all things. 
I probably shall spend at least twelve hours in 
bed when I get there. I am very fond of my bed. 
But I resent the assumption that at a ball, or 
indeed anywhere, I am necessarily bound to be 
out of my element. That is largely why I am 
here. I have a graceless nephew, who held the 
theory that I should not be welcome here — I felt 
compelled to prove the falsity of his words.” 
Everard adjusted his eyeglass and surveyed the 
room. “ Who’s the girl in brown going past us 
now, Lady Delaunay?” 

“ That’s my niece, Myra Woodbridge. I don’t 
think you are quite a suitable person to be intro- 
duced, Everard.” 


LADY DELAUNAY’S BALL 


71 


“Well, what about the man she’s dancing 
with?” 

“I don’t know him — but then I know so few 
of my guests. He looks quite nice, and Myra 
seems to like him — they’ve been dancing together 
for the last hour. I hope he is all right. Do you 
know him?” 

“Know him! He’s my own nephew. No 
shrewd parent or guardian should allow him to 
cross the threshold. Like myself, he is a detri- 
mental, the complete negation of the purpose for 
which society exists and for which you give these 
parties. He is only spoiling the market for others, 
without meaning to buy himself. I insist that you 
either introduce me to your niece or else forbid 
Cyril to go on dancing with her ” 

“My dear Everard, come down to supper and 
don’t try to drag that poor innocent-looking boy 
up to your level of iniquity. Myra will be quite 
safe enough with him. Your business as an uncle 
should be to see that he runs no risk with Myra. 
I regard her as an edged tool, and warn you that 
I accept no responsibility for anything that takes 
place between her and your nephew.” 

“My dear Lady Delaunay, family pride is 
becoming self-assertive. In any conflict between 
those two foolish young persons I back Cyril to 
come off — well — the less damaged of the two. 
He has had more practice and he has had me as 
a model.” 

At the head of the stairs they were met by 
Rodney Trelawney in a paroxysm of nervous 
self-abasement. 


72 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Lady Delaunay, accept my sincere apologies 
for being so late. I have no excuses worth mak- 
ing, and you will probably not believe me if I 
say I have been engaged up to this moment in 
idle after-dinner conversation with my host.” 

“I should believe you, Rodney, whatever you 
said. It would be lacking in appreciation of your 
studiously truthful face to do otherwise. Whether 
Myra will believe you is another question. She 
is so much cleverer than I am.” 

“I hope she has not been waiting for me. I 
feel frightfully guilty, as I promised to be here 
on the stroke of eleven and it's now past mid- 
night/ ? 

“My dear Rodney, yPu mean you hope she has 
waited, but are afraid it’s too good to be true.” 
Everard surveyed him critically. “And you are 
right. While you were fiddling, Rome was burn- 
ing. She has sought consolation elsewhere. Half 
the novels of the day are based on the failure of 
forgetful man to meet his chosen one under the 
clock at Charing Cross in time to catch the boat 
train for the Continent. I have not, of course, 
discussed your prospects with Miss Woodbridge, 
as Lady Delaunay declines to introduce me, but 
I should say they have no marketable value. 

“And now, Lady Delaunay, having inflicted a 
little unnecessary pain, let us resume our inter- 
rupted progress to the supper-room.” 

Rodney stood aside to make way for Everard 
Fitzroy’s portly figure and then wandered into 
the ballroom. The waltz was drawing to an end 


LADY DELAUNAY’S BALL 


73 


and he only caught a glimpse of Myra and Cyril 
before the final chord was struck, but he saw 
sufficient to feel irritated by Everard’s remarks. 
Myra was dancing with eyes half-closed and head 
bent forward until it met and touched her part- 
ner’s. A rebellious strand of hair floated out and 
kissed his cheek, and on her face was the smile 
of perfect contentment. Then the waltz ended 
and Rodney came forward. 

“Myra, as I have just told your aunt, I have 
no excuses worth making. I can only apologize 
and throw myself on your mercy. Will you 
spare me a dance as a mark of forgiveness?’’ 

“My dear Rodney, I have nothing to forgive. 
I gave you up as lost, thought you had decided 
it was not worth coming to-night and had gone 
back to Oxford. I’m afraid I’m engaged every 
dance.” Myra spoke with a dangerous sweetness. 

“Well, let me have an extra. First extra?” 

“I’m engaged for the first extra.” 

“The second — third — tenth — any one you like?” 

“I am afraid I am engaged for the second, the 
third, the tenth and subsequent extras, should 
there be any.” 

“Then in that case I will say good-night. I 
am going up to Oxford first thing to-morrow 
morning — this morning rather — and shall not be 
sorry to get to bed. Will you say good-bye to 
Lady Delaunay on my behalf?” 

“You had better have some supper before you 
go. It’s in full swing now. All the people who 
came too late for the dancing are showing their 


74 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


form downstairs. Well, if I don’t see you again 
I’ll say good-bye.” 

“ Good-bye, Myra. No, I sha’nt stay for 
supper, thanks. Good-bye, Cyril.” 

Rodney walked out of the ballroom and down 
the stairs, lighting a cigarette as he went. Cyril 
watched his departure and then turned to his 
partner. 

“ ‘Hell knows no fury like a woman scorned,’ 
Myra. I think you’re unduly hard on him. 
The Expected One, who is not to be called the 
Expected One, keeps his lady waiting an hour and 
is very properly snubbed when he does put in 
an appearance. All very right and proper, but 
the tone of your voice — well, Myra, I hope I 
shall never do anything which will cause you to 
speak to me like that. You have put a barrier 
between yourself and Rodney in these last five 
minutes which all the tears that man has ever 
shed would be unavailing to wash down. It is 
a sensitive plant.” 

“ Tout comprendre est tout par dormer, Rodney 
was not coming here in a casual way to dance 
with me at a given time and there to be an end 
of it. He asked me to keep myself disengaged 
at eleven o’clock for reasons which I do not pro- 
pose to make public, reasons that would possibly 
not appeal to you, Cyril, but seemed of importance 
to Rodney and me when we made the arrange- 
ment; and then he turns up an hour late with- 
out any attempt to excuse himself and coolly 
asks me for a dance. In my place, you would 


LADY DELAUNAY’S BALL 


75 


have smiled graciously and given him whatever 
he wanted?” 

“In your place — I really do not know. If 
you were a man you would be so used to women 
making appointments and not keeping them that 
an hour’s lateness would rank as punctuality. 
However, Rodney’s disgrace prolongs my hour of 
bliss. One thing only I ask of you. Rodney 
will call on me at 7 a.m. this morning. He has 
a passion for matutinal visits and flatters me by 
sitting on the foot of my bed, making predatory 
onslaughts on my tea, and asking my advice on 
the intimate concerns of his daily life. He is 
occupying my spare room at the Temple, and 
will infallibly call on me at seven, vaunting his 
Philistinism in striped flannel pajamas and seek- 
ing advice on the position in which you have 
placed him. I shall tell him to write you a line 
of apology, and my request is that you neither 
destroy nor return his letter unread. It is so 
Mid-Victorian to destroy letters unread, and 
reveals stone-blindness to the possibility of theatre- 
tickets or a cheque being enclosed. Now resume 
we our waltz.” 

The subject dropped and they danced on in 
silence. The souls of both were too fully possessed 
of the glory of music and rhythm to profane it 
with conversation. Their feet moved unweary- 
ingly and their bodies swayed to the harmony 
born of perfect mutual self-surrender. Daylight 
had long been struggling to shame and extinguish 
the yellow glare of the ballroom before Lady 


76 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Delaunay whispered that the last dance was now 
to be played. Myra felt her way back to reality 
like a child awakening from sleep. 

“Half-past four and hardly a soul left! Oh, 
Cyril, I could go on all day. These people can 
have no more soul than Rodney says you have, 
if they want to go home already.” 

“Half-past four, and do you appreciate that we 
have had no supper, that I at any rate have 
sipped no sup and craved no crumb since par- 
taking of an exiguous dinner tempered by good 
advice at nine o’clock last night? You have no 
more idea of hygiene than I have.” 

“Never mind hygiene, dear. Go and ask 
Murano to play the ‘Rosenkavalier,’ and then 
you shall have as much supper as the others 
have left. He won’t play it — he never will alter 
his programme — but you can have the satisfac- 
tion of trying.” 

“If I ask Murano he will play it. I never ask 
for a thing unless I am certain to get it. That is 
what makes me so sweet-tempered. The secret 
of life — there is no secret of life, but it amuses us 
to think we have found it — the secret of life is 
to limit your desires to the easily attainable. 
What concerns me is the venue of supper. In 
the old days when domestic servants were readily 
corruptible and before Lady Delaunay had this 
house, it was possible to get supper for two laid 
in the library. You know the weak side of that 
celestial being whom your aunt pays to 'drink 
her port wine and trample on her. Persuade him 


LADY DELAUNAY’S BALL 


77 


to continue the imperishable tradition of the 
library supper and I will guarantee that Murano 
does your bidding.” 

The nature of the blandishments lavished on 
the orchestra has not been revealed, any more 
than the persuasive eloquence applied by Myra 
to her aunt’s butler, but the result in both cases 
was eminently satisfactory. Murano played the 
“ Rosenkavalier ” as only he could play it, repeat- 
ing until the last feeble spirits had slunk exhausted 
away and Myra and Cyril remained in sole pos- 
session of the ballroom, and only ending when 
he perceived that his band was likely to stop 
playing from sheer prostration long before the 
last indefatigable couple showed signs of flagging. 

Myra dropped luxuriantly into one of the 
colossal library armchairs. 

“My friend — whether you have a soul or not, 
I leave Rodney to decide — but you certainly 
know how to dance. I make you my compli- 
ments. How did you induce Murano to change 
his programme?” 

“I forget. I think it was principally my charm 
of manner. You who have gladly abandoned 
yourself to my company for nearly six hours on 
end can hardly wonder at his yielding to the 
fascination. But it is a great and good waltz. 
To the strains of the ‘ Rosenkavalier ’ I danced 
into your life yesterday evening, and to the same 
strains I dance out of it this morning. When- 
ever and wherever you hear it played it will 
remind you of my existence and of the happiest 
evening of my life.” 


78 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“That sounds like an extract from a dying 
speech. It was perfectly phrased. But you still 
have a few years to live, though I wish you didn't 
look so white and tired; I have no doubt that we 
shall continue to drift into each other's lives. 
Now you must have some food. Sit still while 
I get you some supper." 

Cyril smiled. 

“I believe I have been intended by Nature for 
a chronic invalid. I love being waited on and I 
really am beat to the world. You don’t notice 
it when you're dancing, Myra, but the moment 
you leave off you become conscious of age and 
infirmity. When I've finished supper, I should 
like to be spirited away on a magic carpet, slipped 
into a hot bath, dried and put to bed for twenty- 
four hours on end. Instead of which I shall 
light a cigar, walk home in the sunshine, purchase 
a Morning Post at the top of Middle Temple 
Lane, and then when I have bathed and conned 
the news of the day, I shall retire for an hour 
and a half, to brace myself for the interview with 
Rodney." 

“If you habitually take only an hour and a 
half in bed, it's small wonder you get to look 
pale and thin. At that rate it is a question of 
months before you knock yourself to pieces. 
You ought to be forbidden ever to go out at 
night." 

“I am, Myra dear, frequently." 

“Ah, but I would see that my orders were 
obeyed. You’d be locked in." 


LADY DELAUNAY’S BALL 


79 


“But it’s no good going to bed if you can’t 
sleep. That’s my trouble. However, we won’t 
discuss my ailments. Remember the handling 
my soul has had at the hands of Lord Darlington 
and the incomparable Rodney, and leave me the 
consolation of a few innocuous maladies. Now 
I want you to give me the roses out of your hair. 
I’m not growing sentimental, but I love William 
Allen Richardsons and they have served their 
turn with you. Of course I could say that the 
scent of a William Allen Richardson would always 
call up this night to my remembrance just as 
the sound of the ‘ Rosenkavalier ’ is going to do 
with you, but I don’t suppose you’d believe me.” 

“Truly you might have said it, my friend, but 
it would have come under the heading of the 
obvious which you have sworn to avoid. My little 
roses have served their purpose, and like all 
things which have ceased to exercise a useful 
function” — she removed the spray from her hair 
and drew in its fragrance for a moment — “I throw 
them away.” 

The long library window was open to let in 
the morning sun, and the roses flashed for an 
instant in the bath of yellow light; then they 
struck the glass an inch from the opening and fell 
back on to the floor. Cyril ran to the window and 
picked them up. 

“A little faded,” he remarked. “But then we 
are none of us at our best after a long night’s 
dancing. We will cut their stalks and put them 
in hot water and then wear them all day in our 


80 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


buttonhoie. They shall be our memorial and 
symbol — the memorial of the happiest night we 
have spent and a symbol of the fleeting beauty 
of life.” He removed the lilies of the valley from 
his buttonhole and carefully pinned the roses in 
their pi ce. • Then he looked up with a smile to 
meet Myra’s eyes. 

“A short-lived memorial, Cyril. Your gal- 
lantry is deserting you.” 

“The memorial, dear lady, typifies the length 
of time for which you will retain the events of 
this night in mind. By this evening the roses 
will be faded; by this evening you will have 
received Rodney’s letter. By this evening the 
diversion will have ceased to amuse and — to 
quote your own unmistakable words, Tike all 
things which have ceased to exercise a useful 
function,’ — you will throw it away.” He stopped 
with a laugh, and then continued more quietly: 
“I’ve got a more lasting memorial, Myra, the 
memory of your face and a chance sight of your 
soul which will come and blast my material faith 
with doub tings and indecisions.” 

He paused to listen — someone had gone into 
the ballroom and was playing the opening bars 
of the waltz which had haunted their ears the 
evening through. 

“That, Miss Woodbridge, is why I propose to 
dance out of your life to the strains of the ‘ Rosen- 
kavalier.’ ” He put his arm round her waist 
and drew her to him. Slowly they waltzed down 
the center of the library to the slow time of the 


LADY DELAUNAY’S BALL 


81 


music overhead. At the door they stopped and 
faced each other. For the first time in his life 
Cyril was at a loss what to say; he was con- 
scious of a feverish excitement which seqmed to 
boil through his veins and fill his head with in- 
toxicating fumes. Then he dropped cn one knee, 
kissed her hand very gently, and passed silently 
out of the library. 


6 


CHAPTER IV 


A GOOD RESOLUTION AND ITS FATE 
“Lugete, O Veneres Cupidinesque.” — Catullus. 


I F you please, sir, there’s a young lady wish- 
ing to see you.” 

“In that case, Beaumont, this is one of her 
lucky days. She will hear me playing the 
‘Rosenkavalier.’ ” 

Cyril Fitzroy was sitting at the piano in his 
rooms at the Temple on the afternoon following 
Lady Delaunay’s ball. He was attired in what 
he had found described in Harrod’s catalogue as 
a “gent’s brown smoking-suit,” in honor of 
which and of the Imperial Tobacco Company in 
which he held shares, he was offering a burnt 
sacrifice of Lambert and Butler’s Sundried Honey 
Dew. On the top of the piano in front of him 
stood a small cut-glass vase containing a spray 
of William Allen Richardson roses. 

“Are you at home, sir?” 

“Like a rat in a hole, Beaumont, that’s the 
devil of it. Does she suggest a name or merely 
open up the limitless possibilities of anonymity?” 

“She gave no name, sir, but I think it is Lady 
Violet Anstruther, and if you weren’t at home 
she would like to write a note.” 

( 82 ) 


A GOOD RESOLUTION 


83 


“Oh, show her in, Beaumont! You have 
taken a weight off my mind. Show her in, and 
then employ your deft fingers in cutting sand- 
wiches of caviare and apricot jam. These latter 
are for her. I don’t seek to palliate or defend 
the taste, Beaumont, but she appears to like 
apricot jam. Also, strive to divert her attention 
from a lingering smell of tobacco.” Cyril spoke 
without removing the pipe from his mouth and 
continued to pay the “ Rosenkavalier ” with 
thoughtful effect. - 

“Lady Violet Anstruther.” 

“ ‘The curtain rises and Cyril is discovered 
playing the piano.’ It is a carefully thought- 
out pose. ‘Surprised at the piano’ would be 
better. But you don’t make enough of the bass. 
Let me show you.” 

Cyril rose from the music-stool and Violet 
slipped into his place. She played the offending 
chords twice over — once for her own satisfaction 
and once to enforce the moral. 

“Well, Cyril, I didn’t come here to teach you 
music, but to give you presents. There’s one — 
that’s from father” — she handed him an oblong 
box — “and that’s from me.” She produced a 
note from her pocket and laid it on the box. 

“What are they, Vi? I suspect the wooden 
horse. It is an elixir of good life from your father, 
a moral jumping powder, a spiritual tatcho, 
positively guaranteed to force the growth of a 
moral sense and make it sprout. Take it away. 
I am afraid. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes 


84 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“It's the olive branch, Cyril. Father told me 
this morning that he had insulted you last night, 
and he’s sent me round to make peace. They’re 
cigars, warranted Corona Corona Claro without 
even a motto in the middle. Was he very rude?” 

“My dear, your father is never rude. He 
merely tells me what he thinks of me. And it’s 
all perfectly true. He says I have no serious 
purpose in life. Granted. That my influence on 
my fellows is detrimental. Granted. That I 
live solely for my own selfish amusement. 
Granted. And, finally, that I am laying up a 
fearful future for myself. There I’m not so 
certain, but on the other points he’s as right as 
rain. Your father is a man of unusual perspicac- 
ity, Vi.” 

“You and he never seem to meet without a 
free fight. Father’s got a high opinion of you, 
Cyril, that’s why he’s so rude. He says if only 
you would put your heart into anything there is 
no limit to what you might do.” 

“Well, you don’t think so, Vi, do you? You 
see the fundamental shallowness of my character? 
Consequently you never put me on a pinnacle, 
never knock me off, never send me Corona Corona 
Claros — without a motto — to mend the broken 
bones. Hence the pipe which I hereby discon- 
tinue in honor of tea and caviare sandwiches.” 

“Father half believes what you say, Cyril. 
I never flatter you like that, and make no at- 
tempt to understand you. Are you going to make 
tea, or am I?” 


A GOOD RESOLUTION 


85 


“I am going to make it, Vi, because I prob- 
ably make better tea than you do. Bachelors, 
and then only bachelors of some years’ standing 
and an Oxford degree — preferably from the House 
— are the only people who know how to make tea. 
You being of the female persuasion, must regard 
it in the light of a lost art. But you shall pour 
it out. When I have made it I shall lie back 
in my chair and watch you. No man should 
ever pour out tea. His fingers are clumsy, he 
probably spills it in the saucers, and if it’s a party 
for men only he is sure to do it with a pipe in his 
mouth. Now, you are going to stand with the 
sun shining on you with a background of Robert 
Louis Stevenson in blue and gold, oak panels to 
set off the hat, and a foreground of spotless 
damask, and I am going to watch you minister- 
ing and wish I were back again at — what is it, 
Vi? Fifteen? And that I could find someone 
to dress me in white serge.” 

“ Employ your time better, Cyril, by reading 
my note while I pour out, and then let me have 
an answer as soon as I’m ready.” 

She threw him the letter and addressed herself 
to the teapot. Cyril opened it, glanced at the 
contents, and then gave himself up to watching 
her quick, graceful movements. He reflected 
that Violet Anstruther would never have passed 
for fifteen. She seemed to have bloomed sud- 
denly from childhood into full flower within the 
twelve months that he had known her. Her 
mother had died when she was four and, in spite 


86 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


of her tender years, she had been lately brought 
into contact with many of her father’s official and 
political friends. The large dinner parties in 
Charles Street and the week-end and shooting 
parties at Anstruther Park had forced her into 
the position of hostess and given her a self-pos- 
session and independence unusual at her age. 
Cyril watched her beautiful golden hair flashing 
in the sun and sighed to think how soon this 
early forcing must rob her of her glorious youth, 
fading the hair and dimming the bright blue eyes 
and taking bloom from the delicately colored 
cheek. She was not yet sixteen, and Cyril with 
his adoration of the innocence and strength and 
purity of youth admitted with regret that it was 
well-nigh impossible to remember her true age or 
keep her back to it. 

Treat a girl of fifteen as though she were twenty- 
five and by the time she is of age she will have 
forgotten what it was like to be a child. He felt 
the days were numbered before this bright fairy 
was robbed of her shining childhood and thrown 
irrevocably into the harem of lifeless and soulless 
automata who made up the married part of her 
social division. He thought of the young married 
women he met in society, compared them with 
Violet, and shuddered. He ran over the men 
who would in course of time be considered “ eligible 
matches” for her, but the thought would not 
bear calm consideration. Cyril’s craving for 
beauty was strangely limited, excluding the 
mature flower in favor of the bud and the deep 


A GOOD RESOLUTION 


87 


spiritual beauty of maternity in favor of super- 
ficial virgin freshness and purity. Beneath the 
self-possession which she had acquired, he was 
fully conscious of her real youth and helplessness, 
and an equal desire to shield her helplessness and 
preserve her youth was at the root of the almost 
fatherly affection which he lavished on her. 

He was recalled from his dreaming by Violet’s 
voice. 

“Well, Cyril, what is the answer to be? Will 
you come? I think you had better have a quiet 
evening, you are looking too tired and thin.” 

“It’s the strain of modern civilization, Vi; but 
I’m turning over a new leaf and going to no more 
dances.” 

“Are you getting old and stiff -jointed, Cyril? 
or did someone tread on your toes last night? 
I rather think you’re getting left in the cold and 
running short of partners.” 

Cyril thought for a moment. 

“I fancy my popularity is undiminished; the 
rush seems unabated, but at dances one is apt to 
meet disturbing people — I met one last night, 
hence my haggard appearance.” 

“Still, she gave you a spray of roses.” Violet 
looked at him with a mischievous smile. 

“She did not, my dear; I took them. But 
that is neither here nor there. I am getting too 
old to be disturbed.” 

“Not really old, Cyril dear, only a little crusted, 
like all people who live alone and only study 
their own comfort. But that’s a forbidden sub- 


88 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


ject, and I want an immediate answer to my 
invitation.” 

“Lady Violet Anstruther, you are deliberately 
trying to fluster me. To begin with, your letter 
contains two separate invitations, each of which 
must be dealt with on its own merits. Next, 
I shall want exhaustive particulars. If I dine 
in Charles Street to-night, who will be there, and 
what shall we have for dinner?” 

“You will have me for sole company, Cyril. 
Father’s got to go down to the House, and I 
invite you purely for the purpose of being amused. 
We shall dine tete-a-tete, and I shall probably 
play to you afterwards, not for your delectation 
nor yet for mine, but as the only means of keeping 
you from the piano. You like me to be candid, 
dear, don’t you? More tea?” 

“Undoubtedly more tea. The strain of evolv- 
ing suitable repartee is racking: besides, you’ve 
not yet told me what you’ve ordered for dinner. 
An old don at Oriel always used to say that the 
worst of bachelor parties was that you missed 
the exquisite moment when the ladies left the 
room. I shall miss that to-night, and must be 
indemnified with permission — in writing — to smoke 
in the drawing-room.” 

“Granted, though I sha’nt bother to put it in 
writing.” 

“It is very irregular, but I suppose I must 
take your word in good faith. Next, as to dinner. 
I don’t press for an itemized menu, but can you 
give me a general assurance that Matisse will 


A GOOD RESOLUTION 


89 


not expect me to eat meat or sweets, that he will 
provide suitable substitutes, and that the faultless 
Wilkins will not be offended if I refuse the choice 
vintage with which he will from time to time seek 
to corrupt me?” 

Violet nodded. 

“ Article Two of the Preliminaries of Peace 
accepted and signed. We dine at 8.30. I say it 
without malice or personal application, but in my 
young days men were not so troublesome about 
invitations.” 

“ There were more men and fewer invitations. 
The increasing disparity of numbers between the 
sexes has set that right, and mere man is begin- 
ning to have a value set on his presence instead 
of a price on his head. But in your young days, 
my dear — you are not old enough to remember 
the invitations issued for to-day’s lunch. You 
only date back to the middle nineties. When 
you came into the world I was a lusty boy of seven. 
Bear that in mind, Vi, the next time you feel 
disrespectful.” 

“I take it all back, every word I have said in 
disparagement of your gray hairs. And now, be 
nice and say you will come down to Anstruther 
for the sixteenth of next month.” 

“ Slowly, please, my dear. I must know who 
is to be there. What are the rules regulating 
(a) pre-breakfast smoking, ( b ) bedroom smoking, 
(c) facilities for sleeping with a door and window 
open. Also, I should like a list of the London 
trains for the moment when your father hurls me 
into outer darkness.” 


90 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Say you’ll come and I’ll tell you whom you’ll 
meet.” 

“My dear, I never gamble.” 

“And this is the man who tells me thrice daily 
that he will go through fire and water for me.” 
Violet rose with a majesty worthy of Lady Mac- 
beth and crossed the room. She turned round 
at the door and smiled at Cyril. “You’d better 
come. You’ll want some country air in a month’s 
time.” 

“Stop, Vi; don’t go! Stay here and talk to 
me and I’ll promise anything. I’m sure I never 
said I would go through fire and water, but I 
believe I would, all the same. I’ll come, and what 
is more I will try seriously, and for this one oc- 
casion only, to behave in a seemly and rational 
manner.” 

“Oh, not that, Cyril! You would be unrecog- 
nizable, robbed of half your interest and charm. 
Just say you’ll come and that will be enough. 
Now I really must go or I shall never be ready 
to receive my distinguished guest to-night.” 

“But you’ve not told me who else is to be of 
the party next month. I’m full of questions to 
ask you. Oh, Vi, I never suspected such depths 
of perfidy!” 

“I can’t remember them all, but I’ll show you 
the list to-night. Your uncle is coming, and the 
Harlands, Dick Wellstead, Mr. Stanford, Bertie 
Hanover and his sister, Lady Delaunay and her 
niece Miss Woodbridge — I expect you’ve met her 
— Effie Tremayne, and one or two others, about 


A GOOD RESOLUTION 


91 


sixteen in all. The official programme and map 
of the course will be issued after dinner to-night. 
Now good-bye, and mind you’re not late.” 

“ Good-bye, dear, and expect me on the stroke 
of 8.30. It is my sole despairing effort to achieve 
that impossibility — hot soup in a private house.” 

When she had gone Cyril filled a pipe and lit 
it abstractedly. His mind was running on the 
prospective party at Anstruther Park. 

“ ‘Lady Delaunay and her niece — Miss Wood- 
bridge — I expect you’ve met her.’ I expect I 
have, my dear Vi,” he muttered, “and if it were 
anybody but you I had promised, I’d arrange to 
serve on a jury or act as best man or have an 
operation that week-end.” 


CHAPTER V 


LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER AT HOME 

“Tecum ludere . . . possem 

Et tristis animi levare curas.” — Catullus. 

T HE clock in the hall was striking half-past 
eight when Cyril Fitzroy divested himself 
of his coat and hat and followed one of 
Lord Darlington’s footmen into the draw- 
ing room. Lady Violet left the open window 
where she had been watching for his arrival and 
came forward to welcome him. 

“You are the soul of punctuality, Cyril,” she 
remarked, taking both his hands in hers, “it will 
be recorded in your favor at the Day of Judgment. 
In the meantime virtue must be rewarded in this 
world or there would be no inducement to be 
virtuous.” She walked to a small table by the 
fireplace and picked up a tray with three button- 
holes. Two were orchids, one white and one of 
many colors: the remaining flower was a pink 
carnation. “You may take your choice, Cyril,” 
she said; “a white flower emblematic of the 
blameless life, one of diverse colors to suit a com- 
plex temperament, or a malmaison to typify the 
rosy blush of perennial youth.” 

“I want all three, Vi dear, to match three 

( 92 ) 


LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER 93 


aspects of the same arresting personality. Let 
me see, I wore white last night and they took 
advantage of my innocence. I will rule out white. 
What about the diverse colors? But I want to 
be simple and unaffected to-night: a piebald 
orchid would spoil the effect. That leaves only 
the pink. I cannot wear pink. When I am 
with you I feel old and sinful by contrast. If he 
only knew it, I should be wax in your father’s 
reforming hands. Everything I have done in the 
seven years that divide me from you rises up to 
accuse me of old age. I cannot wear pink in your 
presence; it would demoralize me as much as 
dyed hair.” 

Lady Violet sighed. 

“You know, dear, you’re just a little trouble- 
some at times. I spent quite a long time choos- 
ing those three for you, and now you’re going to 
slight them.” 

“But you see my difficulty? All three are 
equally suitable or unsuitable, and I don’t know 
which to choose.” 

“Let me choose for you.” She looked at the 
tray for a moment, and then with a smile picked 
up the colored orchid and began to pin it into his 
coat. At the same time Cyril took the mal- 
maison, stripped off the silver paper, wire and 
leaves, and fixed it gently into her hair above 
the left ear. 

“That’s better,” he remarked, “the blush of 
youth where youth still blushes, the parti-colors 
for the patchwork personality, That leaves us 


94 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


only the blameless life to dispose of. What 
offers? Shall we keep it till the end of dinner and 
then send it down to Matisse if his cooking is 
up to standard?” 

“No, I can’t believe Matisse leads a blameless 
life. He is too fat, and fat people are never 
blameless. Keep it for father; he’s coming in 
here from the House to say good-night before 
going to the Prime Minister’s reception.” 

“Does he know I’m dining with you, Vi?” 
asked Cyril, as they walked down to the dining- 
room. 

“Oh, yes, and was quite pleased to hear it.” 
Lady Violet laughed and pressed his arm with her 
small hand. “Are you disappointed, Cyril? 
Did you think I was kicking over the traces and 
giving clandestine bachelor dinners in his ab- 
sence?” 

“Well, I hardly knew what to think, dear. 
His disapproval of me is so whole-hearted that 
I am hourly expecting to be forbidden the house.” 

“Instead of which — Has father told you that 
he’s going to appoint you as my guardian if he 
has to go to India?” 

“We discussed the subject last night at dinner. 
I tried to impress him with my peculiar fitness for 
the position; he dwelt with rather unnecessary 
emphasis on what he considered flaws in my 
character. Of course I am opposed to the idea 
of guardianship on principle. Guardians, like 
parents, are bound to exert an influence on their 
wards; bound to direct the development of their 


LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER 95 


characters into a certain channel, and practically 
bound to set up their own characters as a model 
for their wards to imitate. I regard an influence 
of that kind as unwholesome.” 

“Why unwholesome?” 

“Because our personalities can only develop 
their fullest capacity by choosing their own en- 
vironment. We are bound to be influenced, some- 
times more and sometimes less, by everything 
that comes in contact with us; we all have a 
rich stream of chameleon blood flowing in our 
veins. Well, I maintain that it is immoral to 
thrust forward one type of influence and hold 
back another. It is immoral to recommend books 
to read, pictures to look at, places to see, people 
to meet, conduct to avoid: such recommendation 
is nothing but the advertisement of your own 
particular quack remedy. You must find out 
for yourself what food agrees with you and nour- 
ishes you, intellectually as well as materially.” 

“And if you happen on poisonous fruit?” 

“You will die. But if the food and the books 
and the friends of your own choosing agree with 
you, you will develop a personality of your own. 
If you allow a guardian or a parent to be thrust 
upon you, you become merely a member of his 
spiritual family, instead of an individual master- 
piece.” 

“And the moral of this, Cyril, is that you don't 
want to be my guardian?” 

“I am afraid I was only thinking of myself, 
as usual. My homily was intended to point the 


96 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


contrast between the individual, unfettered de- 
velopment of my own personality and the rival 
treatment served out by your father and the 
Samurai. He will only produce a uniform good 
type; I aim at diversity of type, not minding 
whether it is good or bad.” 

“Yes, you often tell me your diversion consists 
in collecting strange friends.” 

“And relatives. Some of my relatives are 
among the most precious specimens. Which 
reminds me that your father has poached on my 
preserves. Johnny Stanford is now a Samurai.” 

“Why was he included in your list?” 

“Because he played the flute. I woke up one 
morning and reflected that I knew no one in real 
life who played the flute. Result — Johnny was 
ticketed and camphored before the day was out. 
All the same, your father doesn’t know Johnny’s 
real reason for joining the brotherhood.” 

“What was it?” 

“It was the only certain way he could devise 
for coming here and having tea with you once a 
week.” 

“How absurd!” 

“Not at all. It is a very good method of 
attaining salvation. / would almost become a 
Samurai, if that offered the only opportunity of 
seeing you.” 

“Well, dear, leave the Samurai and Johnny 
and me out of the question for a moment and let’s 
get back to the guardianship. Would you take 
the responsibility?” 


LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER 97 


“ Would you trust me, Violet?” 

Lady Violet leaned her head on one side and 
regarded him with a smile. 

“ Would you make a good guardian? Would 
you let me do what I liked?” 

“The answer to the first question is in the 
affirmative; to the second in the negative. I 
should make an admirable guardian, but you 
would have to obey me in everything. I should 
throw aside my most cherished principles and 
interfere with every detail of your life.” 

“Would that make much difference to your 
behavior?” 

“What do you mean? Oh, that’s rather unkind 
of you. It suggests that I am always interfering 
with you now.” 

“Not interfering. You give me good advice.” 

“Which you resent.” 

“Which I follow, dear. You tell me what 
dress I am to wear and whether I am to have 
flowers in my hair. Isn’t this room an object 
lesson?” They were dining in a morning-room 
set apart for Lady Violet’s exclusive use. “Oak 
paneling, chosen by Cyril; bookcases built to 
Cyril’s order; books mostly given by Cyril; 
stained window, palpably ecclesiastical, obtained 
in a manner never disclosed, by Cyril; furniture 
collected throughout England by Cyril. Dinner 
ordered to meet Cyril’s fastidious requirements; 
dress worn by me, ditto ditto. Flower in hair, 
placed there by Cyril. My dear, I don’t think 
that’s bad in the way of obedience. Oh, the fire- 


7 


98 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


place! I’d forgotten that. Club tender, not 
ordered by Cyril, but got by me because I thought 
he’d like it.” 

“Not a bad beginning!” Cyril looked into the 
big blue eyes and laughed. “I had no idea I had 
interfered with you so much, Vi. I wonder how 
long my ward would continue to obey me.” 

“Russian cigarette always taken by Cyril be- 
fore the savory.” She selected one from a box 
on the table and placed it between his lips. 
“Wooden matches because Cyril doesn’t like wax. 
Are you afraid you couldn’t trust me, dear?” 

“Not at present. I wonder how long you 
would trust me and believe in my advice and 
obey me? I sha’nt let you come out for two 
years, and you won’t like that. And I sha’nt 
let you go into grown-up society more than I can 
help. Mothers of thirty can’t have daughters 
of twenty, and guardians of twenty-four can’t 
have wards of more than about sixteen. I shall 
keep you at sixteen, just as you are now, for a 
long time yet.” 

“Come and find some cigars in the library.” 
She rose from the table and took him by the 
hand. “Father doesn’t expect to hear about the 
appointment for some weeks yet, so you need 
not begin your anxieties yet.” 

As they walked up the stairs Cyril said: 

“Am I going to smoke to you in the library, 
Violet, or are you going to play to me in the 
drawing-room?” 

“You are going to smoke to me in the library 


LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER 99 


and I am going to keep my promise by showing 
you the list of people invited to Anstruther next 
month.” 

“Ah, I was forgetting that. I want to see the 
list and I want to know why each one has been 
invited. So few hostesses can give satisfactory 
explanations on that head. Why, for instance, 
have I been invited?” 

“Because I wanted you, dear.” 

“A perfect answer, which cuts short all further 
inquiry. Now for the rest of the list.” He 
dropped into an armchair and addressed himself 
to the sheet of paper which Lady Violet had 
brought him from her writing-table, while she 
drew up a coffin-stool and seated herself on it in 
front of him. “House parties are always selected 
on the principle either of affinity or contrast, you 
bring people together because you want them t& 
marry or to fight. I always work on the latter 
principle and try to include as much incongruity 
as possible, and you have the vulgar people throw- 
ing the refined people into relief, the dull acting 
as a foil to the brilliant, and the serious, useful 
souls, such as your father loves, forming a black 
background to set off the happy, useless butter- 
flies such as people you invite because you want 
them.” 

“Has father done that in this case?” 

“Yes and no. He has unquestionably achieved 
an effect of incongruity, but his motive, I fear, 
has, as usual, been one of moral elevation. I 
cannot avoid the feeling that we shall all serve 


100 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


as object lessons to each other. First of all, you 
have full-blown Samurais like Welstead and 
Mortimer Forrest and the Harlands walking in 
an atmosphere of conscious rectitude and being 
pointed out for the benefit of detrimentals like 
myself as examples of what a man may become 
by abandoning himself to good works. That is 
Class One.” 

“But I don’t call them the best type of 
Samurai.” 

“I call them dull dogs devoid of all sense of 
humor and blithely unconscious of all the good 
things which the world offers them. But it 
wouldn’t do to tell your father that. Does not 
Dick Welstead sing comic songs in hop-picking 
encampments and introduce the cult of the tooth- 
brush into the joyless lives of the submerged 
tenth? Does not Mortimer Forrest give music 
lessons to the child Handels of Bermondsey and 
carry consolation to such of his young friends as 
have been led by excess of high spirits to spend 
a portion of their lives in Wormwood Scrubbs?” 

“What has Lennox Harland done?” 

“He has committed marriage and perpetrated 
offspring. I am its godfather and give it gold 
crosses, being sensible of the eternal picturesque- 
ness of the religion they typify. Oh, Lennox is 
doing his share of the good work, and in one of 
its most important branches. Mortimer Forrest 
called on me two nights ago and consumed in- 
calculable whiskey and cigars in the effort to 
prove that a rising birth-rate in Bermondsey and 


LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER 101 


a falling birth-rate in Temple Gardens were 
quickly robbing us of our leading place in the 
comity of nations.” 

“What is the next class?' 

“Class Two comprises John Stanford in splendid 
isolation, dressed in purest white and kneeling 
devoutly at his premiere communion. His eyes 
stray upward to the stained glass effigies of Class 
One, the saintly company which he hopes some 
day to join. Behind him sounds the mocking, 
discordant laugh of Class Three trying to stifle 
with hollow jeers its chagrin at the sight of a soul 
saved.” 

“And who — besides yourself, of course — figures 
in Class Three?” 

“Everard. It is something of a family pre- 
serve. And here your father’s ingenuity is seen 
at its finest. Such time as Everard and I can 
spare from observing what we might have become 
if we had taken up our cross and followed the 
Samurai, we have to devote to looking at each 
other. I am to see in Everard the fate which middle- 
age has in store for those who seek their own 
happiness instead of trying to interfere with the 
happiness of others. Everard is to regard with 
tearful eye the effect of his pernicious example 
on his young kinsman. These are the three main 
divisions of the party; a few individuals at present 
unknown to me are still unclassified. Who is 
Sir John Wrexham?” 

“He adorns Class One, and was one of father’s 
earliest proteges. Father found him as a small 


102 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


boy in Hoxton, serving in a chemist’s shop and 
attending night classes in mathematics. Father 
discovered a genius for engineering, and Sir John 
is now partner in a shipbuilding firm on the Clyde, 
with a knighthood and the right to describe him- 
self in after-dinner speeches as a self-made man.” 

“I know the type: presumption is its distin- 
guishing characteristic. For millions of years God 
has struggled to make a man, and the result of 
that struggle you see at its best in me and at its 
worst in — say — Mortimer Forrest. Then Sir 
John Wrexham rushes in and solves the problem 
of the universe in his own person. We will now 
leave the Anstruther house-party, Violet.” 

“ There are still one or two with a rag to then- 
backs, Cyril. You should be more thorough.” 

“Time enough for them when we have inspected 
them at close quarters. Now, tell me if you liked 
the novel of Beaudessart’s I sent you to read.” 

“I simply reveled in it.” 

“Then I will send you his latest, 4 The Gods 
grown Weary.’ ” 

“What is it about?” 

“An exchange of souls. Man prays to the 
gods assiduously, day by day, and the gods ignore 
his prayers. But one day the gods grew weary 
of man’s pitiful wailing and decided to grant every 
prayer as it was offered up. The first was spoken 
simultaneously by a man and woman rashly say- 
ing, ‘I wish to Heaven we could change places.’ 
The idea is rather cleverly worked out, and pre- 
sents a full-bodied example of the maxim that we 


LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER 103 


should not grumble at the state of life to which 
it has pleased God to call us.” 

“That is a lesson you learned early in your 
dazzling career, Cyril.” 

“It is the only lesson in life worth learning, 
Vi. It is the whole secret of life; it is Herbert 
Spencer’s definition of existence — ‘ perfect adjust- 
ment to one’s environment,’ or some such melo- 
dious phrase. Haven’t you learned it, Vi?” 

“I’m not sure. It’s an easy lesson to learn if 
your environment is a comfortable one. I’m 
not certain that I wouldn’t change places with 
you, Cyril.” 

“That a daughter of the Earl of Darlington 
should say this thing! My dear, if you’re going 
to change places, I agree you had better change 
places with me, but you’re better off as you are.” 

“I wonder. It would be very tempting to try 
your way of life for a time. No cares, no anxieties, 
no hesitation about what to do: simply looking 
for amusement. Comfortable bachelor quarters 
in the Temple, one or two clubs. Never lonely 
or unhappy. My breakfast table snowed under 
with invitations, from which I pick and choose 
at leisure. A bevy of beauty waiting to dance 
with me every night which I can spare for such 
diversion, and waiting disconsolately if I elect to 
stay away.” 

“And, on the other side of the account, an im- 
paired digestion, insomnia, and such embarrass- 
ments as Everard. There’s a debit balance on 
Everard, Vi. And all this time I should be grow- 


104 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 

ing in beauty like a flower. Not quite sixteen, 
with hair like fine gold, eyes like forget-me-nots, 
and a skin whiter than the driven snow. Would 
you come and dine with me, Vi, if we changed 
places?” He got up from his chair in prepara- 
tion for leaving. She laughed and caught hold 
of his hands. 

“ Would you have a buttonhole ready for me, 
Cyril, if I did?” 

“Of course I should. That is agreed, then. 
I don’t mind changing places so long as we can 
dine together alone like this. And now it’s past 
ten, and whichever place you happen to be 
occupying at the moment, it’s time for you to 
go to bed.” 

“Wait till father comes. He’s on the stairs 
now, talking to someone. Are you going on 
anywhere, Cyril?” 

“I don’t know. I’ve promised to go to the 
Tressidy’s.” 

“Well, go home instead, to please me.” 

“Vi, darling, to please you I would go to most 
places at most hours, but the Temple is not very 
bright at eleven o’clock.” 

“The darker the better. You are tired and 
ought to be in bed. An hour before midnight is 
worth two after.” 

“My dear, to accept rules of health for one’s 
daily guidance argues that one is getting old and 
unable to keep up with the pace of tempestuous 
youth.” 

“To talk about youth as much as you do, dear, 


LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER 105 


is to confess you are losing it. When you are 
young and haelthy you don’t know what youth 
and health are; you just accept and enjoy them 
When either leaves you, you begin to talk about 
it and devise means of keeping it or winning it 
back. That’s what you’re doing now, Cyril dear, 
so go home early to bed.” 

As she finished speaking the door opened and 
Lord Darlington entered the room, accompanied 
by John Stanford. Lady Violet kissed her father 
and shook Johnny by the hand. 

“ We’ve come to spoil a tete-a-tete , Lady Violet,” 
said the latter. “Your father is driving down to 
the Prime Minister’s reception and has kindly 
promised to send me on in the car to the Tres- 
sidy’s. I have come to keep Cyril up to the 
mark and make him come too.” 

“But Cyril has almost promised to go straight 
home and have a long beauty sleep.” 

“Any night but this, Lady Violet. In the 
unexpected role of Bishop Latimer deceased — he 
Tit such a candle — by God’s grace — as I trust 
shall never be put out,’ and is at this moment 
forming the staple topic of conversation through- 
out the length and breadth of Mayfair.” 

“Cyril, what is this?” 

“My dear, I know as little as you do. We 
must believe Johnny, because, like George Wash- 
ington — also deceased — he cannot tell a lie with- 
out being promptly found out. He will doubtless 
explain in the car, but be the fire of good or ill 
import — I do not propose to add fuel to the flames, 


106 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


and when the car has safely deposited its owner 
at the Prime Minister’s, and I have ejected Johnny 
at Mrs. Tressidy’s, it will bear me alone and dis- 
consolate to the Temple and bed.” 

The three men left the house, and after Lord 
Darlington had been dropped at Downing Street, 
Cyril and John Stanford drove on together to 
Belgrave Square. 

“Well, Johnny,” began Cyril, “what is the 
candle that I so successfully lit last night and 
which is now guttering out for want of tending?” 

“My dear boy, the conquest of Myra Wood- 
bridge, the eclipse of Rodney Trelawney, the 
descent of the ice-cold gods from Olympus. Not 
bad for one evening’s work.” 

“So good that another touch of the brush 
would spoil the picture, which is one reason why 
I am going to bed early.” 

“But, Cyril, Myra is going to be at Tressidy’s; 
that’s why it is so important you should be there.” 

“My dear Johnny, I have gone through twenty- 
three years without meeting Myra Woodbridge, 
and now I am going to see if I can go through 
another period of equal length without her. She 
dances beautifully, looks divine, and is most 
entertaining to talk to. We each extracted con- 
siderable amusement out of the other; her soul 
has been dissected and catalogued, and you have 
my fullest permission to fetch her down from the 
icy fastnesses of Olympus or to send her back 
to Rodney, which is her proper destination.” 

“When I spoke of the ice-cold gods descending 
from Olympus, I was referring to you, not Myra.” 


LADY VIOLET ANSTRUTHER 107 


“I bow to the compliment. Olympus is good 
enough for me just at present. Have you evei 
met Lionel Fitzroy?” 

“Husband to Evelyn Fitzroy?” 

“And uncle to Cyril Fitzroy. He has other 
claims to distinction, but we need not discuss 
them at the moment. Lionel once said that 
every man who makes a proposal of marriage 
and has the misfortune to be accepted, walks 
out of the drawing-room or conservatory or down 
the steps to the front door, murmuring in tragic 
accents, ‘What have I done, and why did I do 
it?’ Here we are in Belgrave Square. Jump 
out, Johnny, and tell the man to drive me to the 
Temple. Then bring the fair Myra under the 
compelling fascination of your personality, but 
keep Lionel’s words of ripe wisdom in mind before 
you do anything fatal yourself or urge me to do 
anything fatal for your amusement.” 


CHAPTER VI 


A CELIBATE BY STATUTE 

“The life of man solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short.” 

— Hobbes. 


I ’M ready for breakfast now, Melvin. Are 
there any letters?” 

Rodney Trewlawney entered his sitting- 
room and flung his cap and gown into a window- 
seat overlooking the quadrangle. The last strag- 
glers from chapel wandered up and down for a 
few moments, enjoying the morning sun before 
facing the more serious business of breakfast, 
and then perfect calm and desolation were re- 
stored. If a man is content to remain single 
there are few pleasanter places to live in than an 
Oxford college in summer, with its crumbling 
gray stone, its brilliant flower-boxes, its somnolent 
air of peace and perennial blend of youth and 
age. It amused Rodney to contrast the unchang- 
ing and flippant youthfulness of his colleagues 
with the premature age and world-weariness of 
the undergraduates. An Oxford don seldom 
grows old. Gray hairs and corpulence supervene, 
the narrow circle of interests grows narrower, the 
ever critical tone becomes slightly more acid and 
carping, but of age which softens criticism by 
( 108 ) 


A CELIBATE BY STATUTE 109 


sympathy and broadens character by experience, 
he knows nothing. The monastic seclusion of 
college life secures that. Rodney had lived 
eight years in London between the time of taking 
his degree and accepting his present fellowship, 
and to the performance of his new duties he had 
brought a mind ripened by powers of observation 
which in his colleagues had never been developed. 
The appointment had been a welcome relief from 
his previous journalistic work. He was too 
highly strung and quickly tired to engage in 
competition with men less richly endowed but 
of tougher fibre than himself ; at the Bar he would 
have been briefless and the routine of commercial 
life or a government office would have nauseated 
him in a week. Two nights before Cyril had 
jested about his search for the Ideal, and Rod- 
ney was still of an age and innocence to be flat- 
tered at receiving the character of a slightly loose- 
living and faithless woman-hunter. Had he 
understood Cyril’s diagnosis of his character he 
might have been less pleased. His friends called 
him fastidious, and fastidiousness was his bane 
in life. He had been too fastidious to take off 
his gloves for the rough and tumble of life, and 
now at thirty-three was beginning to see that 
the prizes do not go to the spectator. Too fas- 
tidious for a competitive or monotonous profes- 
sion, too fastidious to give up the search for an 
impossible ideal of womanhood or to see that no 
woman is without a blemish easily discoverable, 
he found himself drifting into the state of the 


110 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


older fellows of the college — crabbed and inhuman, 
cold-hearted and small-minded, carping and jeer- 
ing, lonely and yet self-satisfied. If one were 
prepared to accept such a conclusion open-eyed, 
or if one proceeded to it unconsciously as his 
colleagues had done by ceasing to be under- 
graduates only to become fellows, such a life 
might wdth all its limitations still be tolerable. 
But Rodney’s experience of an external world 
made this impossible, the whole fastidiousness of 
his nature cried out against it, and he recognized 
that either he must leave Oxford or fortify him- 
self by the importation of a corrective and anti- 
dote for the rigor mortis which had seized on the 
middle-aged children whom he met as a matter 
of form in Common Room. The moral which 
Lord Darlington had pointed for Cyril in the 
coffee-room of the Cynics’ Club was as applicable 
word for word and letter for letter to his own 
case; he saw all round him examples of the shape 
he would assume in twenty years’ time if he did 
not marry and break the spell. And then the 
old difficulty arose — and Rodney turned to the 
consideration of breakfast with the reflection that 
his search for the Ideal was at the moment com- 
passed about with peculiar difficulties. 

Three or four letters lay on his plate and he 
subjected the envelopes to a leisurely examina- 
tion, finally selecting one where the writing was 
vaguely familiar. It was from Evelyn Fitzroy, 
an aunt of Cyril’s and the depository of many 
strange confidences of his own. 


A CELIBATE BY STATUTE 111 


“Dear Rodney” (it ran): 

“I am motoring up to town to-morrow (Friday) 
from Gloucester and shall be passing through 
Oxford at about 12.30. If you are disengaged 
(and hospitable) you will present yourself at the 
Randolph at that horn* and invite me to lunch 
with you in college. If you are engaged (or in- 
hospitable) don’t bother, and I will lunch at the 
hotel. 

“Sincerely yours, 

“Evelyn Fitzroy.” 

Rodney propped the letter up against the milk 
jug and went on with his breakfast. At any other 
time he would gladly have welcomed Mrs. Fitz- 
roy, but now he felt too dissatisfied with life in 
general to face with any pleasure the prospect of 
having to come out of his shell and do the honors 
of the college. The marmalade, however, brought 
decision of mind in its train, and he summoned 
his scout to the room with the words: 

“Melvin, I shall want lunch for two at one 
o’clock.” 

“Yes, sir. A little chicken and potato chips 
and cauliflower, sir, and some meringues to fol- 
low?” For forty years Melvin — if left in an 
unguarded moment to his own devices — had 
ordered that lunch, and the appetite had grown 
upon him. He had refrained from offering salmon 
mayonnaise, but that was because the sex of 
the visitor was still obscure. He stood waiting 
to spring, if the lunch should prove to be ordered 
for a lady. 


112 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“No, Melvin, I think not.” Rodney paused, 
regardless of the salmon mayonnaise hanging like 
the sword of Damocles over his head. “We will 
have dressed crab, some quails and green peas, 
a little maraschino jelly — oh, and some croustade 
au parmesan. Strawberries. I think that’s all. 
I will make the coffee.” Rodney spoke with 
regretful memory of previous coffee made by other 
hands and innocent of the seductive coffee berry. 

“Very good, sir.” Melvin sighed in the direc- 
tion of a vanishing array of chicken, chips, and 
meringues. “Anything to drink, sir?” 

“Yes, some iced hock cup;” and Rodney turned 
away to collect notes for two lectures and a private 
hour which he had to press into the interval 
separating luncheon from breakfast. 

At 12.30 he walked into the hall of the Ran- 
dolph Hotel suitably attired in a light gray flannel 
suit, black and white spotted bow-tie, and straw 
hat with a nondescript ribbon. He was obviously 
pleased with the general effect, and had vented 
his satisfaction in an unusually severe application 
of eau de cologne to his handkerchief. 

“How do you do, Rodney? I’m so glad I 
found you on one of your less strenuous days. 
I would have written before to give you warning 
and opportunity for escape, but I only decided 
last night to come up to London.” 

“My dear Mrs. Fitzroy, all days are equally 
strenuous, but rigid economy of time and intense 
mental concentration still leave me an hour or 
two in each day to welcome my friends when they 
honor me with a visit.” 


A CELIBATE BY STATUTE 113 


“And also to run up to London now and again 
for dinner, and perhaps a dance?” 

“Oh, hardly at all, Mrs. Fitzroy.” Rodney 
smiled evasively. “Fm never seen in town now- 
adays. Shall we make our way round to my 
rooms?” 

“Hardly at all, Rodney; quite so. But when 
you do come to London, I think you might call 
on me sometimes, or else make your visits less of 
a triumphal progress. I was about the only per- 
son who did not see you. My brother-in-law and 
Cyril appear to have monopolized you. I sup- 
pose you went up for Lady Delaunay’s ball?” 

“If you press for an answer, Mrs. Fitzroy, I 
did go up to town on Wednesday and it was for 
Lady Delaunay’s ball. Also, I saw Mr. Ever- 
ard Fitzroy and your graceless nephew. I would 
have called, but I only arrived in town in time to 
dress for dinner. Please forgive me and eat of 
my salt in token of reconciliation.” 

They had wandered in the direction of Rod- 
ney’s rooms as they talked, and Evelyn Fitzroy 
stopped for a moment to look at the momentary 
animation of the sunlit quadrangle before climb- 
ing the stairs and accepting the chair which the 
passive Melvin offered her. 

“You’ve got very pleasant quarters here, Rod- 
ney. I always feel I should like to seek the 
peaceful seclusion of an Oxford college and end 
my days there. At least that is the feeling which 
I experience every time I come here. Since con- 
vents practically ceased to exist, a college is the 


8 


114 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


only perfectly reposeful place I know of, though 
how long I should be able to endure it I cannot 
say.” 

“Not long, Mrs. Fitzroy. Nobody can live 
long in college without getting stifled — the life 
is too narrow and self-centered, and you simply 
shrivel up and die.” 

“Some of your colleagues take a long time in 
dying; I suppose they concentrate on the shrivel- 
ing part.” 

“No, they all die after ten years. To shrivel or 
not to shrivel is a matter intimately connected 
with port wine and liver enlargement, but ten 
years sees the end of them.” 

“What happens then?” 

“A transmigration of souls, I fancy. The souls 
of Oxford dons vacate the body and retire to a 
refuse heap. Then the pariah dogs come and sniff 
and turn away, and the lowest of the animal 
kingdom; and now and again — once in a hundred 
years — a soul is taken away and enters a new 
body.” 

He spoke with a bitterness so unusual and 
undisguised that Mrs. Fitzroy looked at him in 
surprise. 

“Someone went into your bedroom last night 
and crumpled one of the rose leaves, Rodney. 
It’s early days for your soul to be migrating. 
You’ve only been here a couple of years, haven’t 
you?” 

Rodney laughed. 

“That’s all, Mrs. Fitzroy, but I am afraid I 


A CELIBATE BY STATUTE 115 


must be a bad subject. Mortification seems to 
have set in already.” 

“Lady Delaunay’s ball has demoralized you, 
Rodney.” Mrs. Fitzroy thought the symptoms 
were familiar and watched closely for his reply. 
“You fancy you are missing everything that’s 
worth having in life because you aren’t living in 
London in the season. You’d be bored very 
quickly with the life that people like Cyril lead. 
I fancy my graceless nephew, as you call him, 
would sell his soul for your present peaceful 
eighteenth century surroundings.” 

“Cyril has no soul, Mrs. Fitzroy, but we will 
let that pass. I don’t think I’m demoralized by 
Lady Delaunay’s ball; it has only emphasized 
the narrowness and isolation of this place. Man 
is a social animal, Mrs. Fitzroy, as Aristotle ob- 
served many years ago, and as I hand on with 
an air of profound originality to my pupils twice 
weekly. You must be more or less than a man, 
you must be a god or a brute-beast to live in 
solitude. That is the lesson from Lady Delaunay’s 
ball and that’s the reason for my present state of 
mind, for which I apologize to you unreservedly.” 

“How did people manage in the old days, Rod- 
ney? Did they mortify and grow corrupt, or is 
it a new development?” 

“They would have mortified if they’d lived 
alone all their days, but the enormous majority 
didn’t. They took orders as a condition of fellow- 
ship and only lived in a college until such time 
as they were presented with a fat living; and 


116 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


then they married wives and became patterns of 
prolific domesticity.” 

“Were there no exceptions?” 

“Oh, certainly, I admit that. The exceptions 
lived on in isolation just as I seem likely to do 
and realized Aristotle’s maxim. They became 
brute-beasts and fancied they were gods.” 

Mrs. Fitzroy pondered for a moment. She had 
diagnosed the disease aright and now wanted to 
trace the cause. Then would be the time for 
playing Providence and finding a remedy. 

“I wish Cyril were here, Rodney. Your words 
would carry him farther towards getting married 
than anything I could say.” 

“If Cyril were here I should not speak as I 
have done, Mrs. Fitzroy. You are sympathetic, 
also you knew beforehand what was the matter, 
as you always do, so I felt it was no good trying 
to conceal it. Sympathy is an unknown quality 
with Cyril.” 

“I should not say so. Perhaps you don’t know 
him as well as I do, but I expect that some day 
he will get stirred up, and I look forward to a 
most interesting time in finding undiscovered 
qualities and emotions in him. But that is by 
the way. I want to hear about Lady Delaunay’s 
ball.” 

“There’s nothing much to tell, Mrs. Fitzroy, 
I was there exactly ten minutes.” 

“Ten minutes is just enough for instantaneous 
triumph or defeat.” 

“There was no battle.” 


A CELIBATE BY STATUTE 


117 


Mrs. Fitzroy looked Rodney in the face to bring 
him back to the paths of truth. No man would 
come up from Oxford, least of all Rodney, for 
the sake of putting in a formal ten minutes' 
appearance at a ball. She shot an arrow into the 
air. 

“Was Myra Woodbridge there? Of course she 
would be, the ball was in her honor!" 

“Yes, she was there, but I didn't dance with 
her." Rodney spoke unguardedly and the next 
moment could have bitten his tongue off. 

“I just wondered whether you would see her. 
She always interests me, and I rather fancy you 
met her at my house." Mrs. Fitzroy was too wise 
to risk the pitcher to the well again. “Now can 
you tell me the right time, Rodney? I ordered 
the car to be round at the gate at two o'clock, 
and I want to send a wire off before I go. Where 
is your nearest office?" 

“The general post office in St. Aldates, but I’ll 
take it, Mrs. Fitzroy, don't you bother. I'll walk 
round when you've gone, if you really must go 
so soon." 

“You shall show me the way and I'll write it 
in the office. How do you know it's not something 
I don't want you to see?" 

They rose from the table and walked out 
through the quadrangle into St. Aldates. Mrs. 
Fitzroy thought for a moment what form the 
message should take, and then picked up a pencil 
and wrote a telegram to Myra Woodbridge. 
“If disengaged, come and dine eight fifteen to- 
night Pont Street. Evelyn Fitzroy." 


118 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“And now, Rodney, for the car. It is so good 
of you to have given me lunch, and when term 
is over you must spare a few nights in London 
and let me put a more cheerful view of life before 
you. I regard you as a Daniel come to judgment. 
I’ve tried to find you a wife for six years and 
you’ve always been too critical. Now you pine 
for what you call prolific domesticity and I do not 
know how to help you. But I’ll try and find a 
solution by the time you come and see me. Good- 
bye, and keep up a brave heart.” 

“Good-bye, Mrs. Fitzroy, and thank you for 
coming to see me. I shall be in town in three 
weeks’ time and will try to make amends for my 
present state of depression.” 


CHAPTER VII 


IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION 

“There’s fish in the sea, no doubt of it, 

As good as ever came out of it.” — G ilbert. 

A S Rodney returned moodily to his rooms 
he heard his name called by a voice from 
his own sitting-room window. The owner 
of the voice was a younger contemporary 
of his own, a Scot by name George Fair, now leader 
writer on one of the great northern dailies. 

“ Hullo, Fair,” said Rodney, “ you’re about the 
last man I expected to see in Oxford. What 
brings you away from proof-reading and ‘pi’ and 
other secrets of your dark calling?” 

“Fm just in Oxford for an hour or two, seeing 
the people at the Clarendon Press about a book 
Fm producing for them. I nearly came and 
touched you for lunch, but it’s just as well I 
didn't, as you appear to have been entertaining 
one or more important visitors. From the 
picturesque ruins of the meal, you appear to have 
departed in every particular from the orthodox 
luncheon menu. This originality shows enter- 
prise, but it hurts my conservative sensibilities to 
see meringues — for example — treated with cold 
neglect.” 


( 119 ) 


120 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“ Your first term you eat meringues, your second 
term you watch unsuspecting guests eat them, 
your third and succeeding terms you bribe or 
bully your scout to keep the loathsome delicacies 
out of sight and hearing.” 

“Do meringues — in private life, of course — 
make much noise?” 

“They do if they’re too crisp and people crunch 
them, but it’s a small point, anyway. Look here, 
are you coming down to me, or am I going up 
to you? I was thinking of a short walk, ending 
up with tea at the Snark’s. I’ve not called on 
Mrs. Snark for generations.” 

“I’ll come part of the way with you, but I’ve 
got to get down to the station by four, so it 
won’t be for long. Just wait a minute.” He dis- 
appeared from the window and rejoined Rodney 
at the foot of the stairs. “I’ve not seen the Snark 
since they made him a professor. How does he 
go down in his new college?” 

“There was a short conflict of wills, ending 
in the Snark’s complete triumph. He looked out 
for an opportunity of impressing on his new col- 
leagues that a Fellow who comes to them from 
Great Thomas’ College is of a finer clay than 
themselves. They had a tercentenary or some- 
thing and the Master of the Ceremonies bustled 
round making the arrangements, and told the 
Snark that he was to be in his place at 3.15 to 
wait for the procession which was due at 3.45. 
The Snark focussed him with his right eye and 
then turned his face and focussed him with the 


IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION 121 


left, remarking, “If there — is any waiting — it 
will be — for me — not — by me.” Result, complete 
collapse of the M.C.” 

“The Snark rather cultivates that style of 
speech. Do you remember the great Fifth of 
November when he was hauled out of bed by a 
panic-stricken porter to quell a riot in the Quad? 
The Snark found a horde of drunken revelers, so 
he focussed them with one eye after the other 
and remarked, ‘Will those who can, put those 
who can’t, to bed?’ Then he retired to bed 
himself.” 

“The Snark is a great man.” 

“Without a doubt, and now that he is gone, 
I am hoping to see you stepping into his shoes. 
In the matter of personal appearance he has the 
advantage of you, but with an effort I see no 
reason why you should not match him in manner- 
ism and eccentricity. That is a most necessary 
part of a young don’s equipment, Trelawney, 
though not a high ideal in itself, I admit; but 
people expect a certain measure of peculiarity in 
dons, and you have got to satisfy that expec- 
tation.” 

They were walking along the High in the direc- 
tion of Magdalen Bridge, and after a few minutes 
Fair, who was not of an athletic habit, suggested 
a tram. Rodney would have none of it. 

“My dear Fair, I daren’t trust myself in one. 
Were you with me the day Roger Shorncliffe 
collected hats? He drove down on a westward 
bound tram, and whenever he met one going the 


122 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


other way he reached over and removed a hat 
from the head of an unsuspecting burgess, who 
hadn’t time to recover from his surprise before 
the trams — even the Oxford trams — had lost 
themselves on their respective horizons. I’ve 
never been on one since, I feel too strong a temp- 
tation to go and do likewise.” 

Fair laughed. 

“ Roger was at his best in the Cowslip Road 
Alhambra. He used to be able to paralyze the 
performance without getting thrown out, which 
is no mean feat. Ordinarily I used to stroll into 
the front row of the stalls half-way through, and 
stop the action of the play by making the villain 
give me a resum£ of the plot up to that point. 
I usually got flung out, but Roger was more 
subtle. He waited for the entrance of the heroine, 
and then rose from his seat, clutching his fore- 
head, and gasping out, ‘ Curse her! how lovely 
she is!’ Then he subsided, and it was taken as 
a tribute to the lady’s personal charms. Another 
time, in a moving melodrama, he and I put our 
heads down on the back of the stalls in front and 
wept loudly and realistically, heaving our shoul- 
ders, while ladies in the pit grew sympathetic 
and said, Tore feller — how he do take it.’ Then 
Roger spoiled everything by jumping into the 
orchestra, putting the big drum’s head in chancery 
and beating it with his own drum-stick. There 
was a most awful row, and he and I both had 
to take sanctuary in the Conservative Club.” 

“It’s most demoralizing, Fair, for you to rake 


IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION 123 


these things up out of the dim forgotten past. 
You must remember that I'm now the poacher 
turned gamekeeper, and one of my missions in 
life is to keep Roger’s successors and imitators in 
check." 

“Well, as I said before, I hope you're living up 
to the part and cultivating a few harmless eccen- 
tricities of manner. My complaint against the 
modern don is that he has allowed the great age 
of the eccentrics to pass away without putting 
anything in its place. Durham is gone and the 
Infant Bacchus, I understand, lives on soda and 
milk. It is up to you to revive the glorious tra- 
dition, Trelawney." 

“We've still got El Hidalgo, and though the 
Snark's left us, he still lives and delights an 
admiring world with the sight of his side-whiskers." 

“But you must do something yourself. Wear 
knickerbockers and a yachting cap, and carry 
the Pink 'Un visibly in your pocket like old 
Durham; scandalize your colleagues by drink- 
ing beer in cap and gown in various ill-famed 
public-houses like Main waring. Never appear 
without a tall hat and gold-knobbed cane like 
Pater. Do something, anything to collect a 
little innocent notoriety." 

“It's gone out of fashion, Fair. * Durham's 
death frightened a good many of his bons cama- 
rades . I remember dining with the Infant Bacchus 
in the days before his regeneration, and when he 
left the table to get cigars, some misguided 
mechanical genius attached the works of an alarm 


124 , STHE RELUCTANT LOVER 


clock to the electric switch and let off the alarm. 
Poor Infant Bacchus returned to be met with a 
series of blinding flashes followed by equally 
blinding darkness for the space of about three 
minutes. That night sealed his fate as a bon 
viveur.” 

“What of El Hidalgo?” 

“Well, he dissipates his energies between Ox- 
ford and London, so we don’t get the full advantage 
of his light-hearted personality. There was a bit 
of a row lately when he was editor of the Athenian 
Herald. He published a series of most question- 
able articles, and the committee unanimously 
resolved to eject him from the editorial chair at 
the next meeting. El Hidalgo got wind of it, 
and when the committee got to his rooms — they 
always meet on a Sunday morning — they found 
a notice pinned on his oak: ‘Dr. Frobisher regrets 
he is unable to meet the committee of the Athen- 
ian Herald , as he is indisposed with gastric in- 
fluenza. P.S. — Dr. Frobisher will be indisposed 
with the same distressing malady every Sunday 
this term.’ That is his sole jeu d’ esprit of recent 
date in Oxford. The rest of his talents he wraps 
in a napkin and only brings out for the edification 
of Indian students elsewhere.” 

“I firmly believe that one of them will put a 
knife in his back one day as he trips down Chan- 
cery Lane in gray flannel trousers and mustard- 
colored waistcoat and coat. ‘Black Man, Black 
Mark/ is his simple but comprehensive motto, 
and he will tell you in confidence that his nose 


IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION 125 

A 

is so sensitive that he can detect (and if neces- 
sary plough) a black man from the scent of his 
papers.” 

They had reached the foot of Headington Hill 
and Fair looked at his watch. 

“I shall turn back here, Trelawney, and make 
my way slowly down to the station. It's been 
great luck catching you like this.” 

“My dear man, don’t go yet. You’ve told me 
nothing about yourself or the work you’re doing.” 

“Did you ever know two Oxford men get down 
to anything so remote and uninteresting as that 
in the first hour of their conversation? Emphatic- 
ally no! They always do as we’ve been doing, 
dredge the waters of their memory and exchange 
more or less discreditable reminiscences which 
are perfectly familiar to them both. It’s one of 
the most abiding charms of the place. Now I 
must go. When next I see you, I trust to find 
you following in the steps of the immortal Dur- 
ham, and the Infant Bacchus and El Hidalgo. 
One parting prayer — don’t get married. It’s the 
ruin of Common Room and of the characters of 
those who comprise it. Good-bye.” 

Rodney turned and walked up the hill. He 
had been glad to see Fair and to barter hoary 
reminiscences with him, but was annoyed to see 
how every topic of conversation came back to 
one point. Fair’s unfortunate concluding advice 
to him to cultivate a few harmless eccentricities 
and avoid matrimony had revived all the old 
pains and pointed in the most unmistakable 


126 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


manner the contrast between the life he wished 
to lead and the life into which he was drifting 
by rapid if imperceptible stages — a lonely old age, 
made famous by a reputation for giving dinners 
at which he drank more than was good for him. 
At the moment that seemed to be all that Oxford 
had to offer him. He walked quickly up the hill 
and inspected his watch at the top. It was not 
yet 3.30 and he felt in his own interests he could 
hardly call upon the Snarks to give him tea for 
another half-hour. A seat was invitingly handy 
and he prepared to occupy the interval in smoking 
and contemplating the passers-by. 

He had not been thus employed for more than 
five minutes when he perceived a car driven by 
a girl mounting the uphill. He wondered idly 
whether she would get to the top without having 
to change gear. Evidently she decided not, for 
as she came opposite him she bent forward and 
pulled the gear-lever. There was a grinding noise 
accompanied by a slowing motion of the car. 
“She’s missed it,” remarked Rodney to himself. 
Again the lever was pulled, but still without 
success. Then the car began to run backward 
down the hill, and by the time she had put the 
brakes on the engine had come to a standstill. 
She jumped out of the car with an air of vexation 
just as Rodney hurried up with offers of assistance. 

“May I start the engine again for you?” he 
asked. “I always think it’s a lot of strain for a 
lady.” 

She turned to him with a smile. “I’m very 


IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION 127 


much obliged to you. It’s one of the old 1905 
Renaults and very hard to come back into second 
gear. Not that I want to excuse my own bad 
driving, but Fve not been very long at it.” 

“Then I think you’re rather courageous to go 
out alone. Are you qualified to do the usual 
roadside repairs?” 

“Oh, yes, provided it’s nothing very bad, and 
I never go very far from home, so that the re- 
sources of civilization in the shape of ropes and 
horses are easily available.” 

“I don’t mind the driving, but I hate getting 
in a mess over the breakdowns. I never seem 
able to touch the internal organs of a car with- 
out getting smeared from head to foot with 
peculiarly adhesive black oil. However, I imagine 
I can start an engine and still keep my hands 
sufficiently clean for the demands of afternoon 
tea.” 

The girl climbed back into the car as Rodney 
addressed himself to the starting-handle. He 
pulled it over twice without effect; at the third 
attempt the handle flew from his hand and struck 
the top of his left knee-cap with very considerable 
force. He jumped back, clutching the injured 
member and hopping on one leg, while the girl 
in the car stood up to see what had happened 
and inquire whether he was hurt. 

“It’s only a back-fire,” he remarked, gradually 
becoming more composed in his movements. 
“It might have broken my wrist, but it slipped 
out of my hand in time. It’s all right now, 
thanks.” 


128 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


The girl was not satisfied, but Rodney insisted 
on returning to his task and this time the engine 
responded to his ministrations. He stood on one 
side to let the car pass and took off his hat in fare- 
well, but instead of driving away, the girl slipped 
out of the car and came up to him. 

“Look here,” she said firmly, “it's no good 
pretending you’re not hurt, because you can hardly 
stand. You must get into the car at once and I’ll 
drive you home to have the knee seen to. I only 
live five minutes’ drive from here.” 

“My dear lady, I assure you it’s nothing. It 
was a mere tap. Just see, I can walk all right.” 
He threw all his weight into the injured leg, 
which promptly disproved his words by refusing 
to support him, so that he had to clutch at the 
mudguard to prevent himself falling. 

“Just as I said. Now hop on your sound leg 
and lean on my shoulder. Then we’ll have a 
look at the damage and bathe it, and then when 
you’ve had some tea I’ll motor you into Oxford.” 

The pain in the knee made walking so com- 
pletely impossible that Rodney followed her in- 
structions with lamb-like obedience. She drove 
him a couple of miles to a small bungalow stand- 
ing back from the road and surrounded on two 
sides with a wide expanse of lawn. Again leaning 
on her shoulder he hopped to a deck-chair into 
which he subsided, and as soon as she had sup- 
plied him with cushions and a second chair for 
the leg, she disappeared indoors in search of tea 
and the paraphernalia of domestic surgery, 


IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION 129 


As she walked away Rodney turned to admire 
her light, graceful carriage. She looked about 
two-and-twenty, with a slight figure of medium 
height. The hair and eyes were black, in marked 
contrast to the whiteness of her skin, which pre- 
sented no color relief save in a blue vein in either 
temple. Later on as she bathed and bandaged 
his knee, he saw that the delicate blue veins were 
reproduced in her hands, thin white hands which 
moved very quickly and touched his knee so 
gently that he was hardly conscious of her fingers. 
Unconsciously he compared her with Myra Wood- 
bridge, but beyond the fact that both parted 
their hair at the side and brushed it away in a 
long low sweep over the ear, there was no single 
point in common. He was interested to notice 
an engagement ring on the third finger of her 
left hand, and then, for no accountable reason, 
intensely irritated at the sight. Finally realizing 
the folly of his annoyance, he indulged in the 
equal folly of wondering who the man was. 

“Now Fve finished,” said the girl, jumping 
up from her knees and drying her hands on a 
towel. “Fve told my maid to bring tea out here 
and it ought to be ready now. By the way, it 
will simplify things if we introduce ourselves. 
My name is Enid Sutherland.” 

“Mine is Rodney Trelawney and I’m deeply 
grateful to you, Miss Sutherland, for doctoring 
me like this. I will just apologize once for all the 
trouble I’ve caused and am still causing and then 
we’ll drop the subject. Just as if we were playing 


130 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


tennis / 7 he added, “one season-ticket apology 
made at the beginning of the set, to remain valid 
till close of play.” 

At this moment a maid with a crowded tea- 
tray appeared and made preparations for the 
meal on a table which she had drawn up to 
Rodney’s side. 

Enid Sutherland poured out a cup of tea and 
placed it within Rodney’s reach. 

“Milk and sugar, Mr. Trelawney?” 

“No sugar, thanks. What a charming place 
you’ve got here, Miss Sutherland! I always 
regard Oxford as fairly reposeful, but this is a 
veritable land of lotus-eaters. I wonder you 
ever leave it.” 

“Well, I have to get down to the Bodleian a 
certain amount for some work I’m doing there, 
but otherwise I spend most of my time up here. 
I think it’s healthier than in the town. Do you 
live in Oxford?” 

“Yes, I’m at Great Thomas’ College.” 

“Not an undergraduate, are you? Excuse my 
asking.” 

“No, I’m a don there.” 

“I thought you looked too old for an under- 
graduate, but at the same time too young to hold 
a studentship. Have you been there long?” 

“Only two years. I was in London for several 
years after taking my degree, and then I got this 
opportunity of coming back to Oxford and I 
jumped at it.” 

“I don’t wonder. Your college is a charming 


IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION 131 


place, though I hardly ever set foot there. I 
remember going to the Commem. ball there five 
years ago; it was when I was coming out, and 
I marked that night with a red cross in my 
diary, or should have done so if I’d kept one.” 

“I missed that one, somehow, but I went two 
years ago, wasn’t it? Weren’t you there by any 
chance?” 

“No, I gave up going out to dances when I 
married.” 

Rodney gave a start of surprise. 

“Are you married? I beg your pardon, I had 
no business to ask such a question, but I noticed 
you wearing an engagement ring. I suppose I 
ought to call you Mrs. Sutherland?” 

She laughed a little bitterly. 

“No; I suppose the engagement ring is mis- 
leading, but I’m not Mrs. Sutherland. I am 
really not sure what name I’m entitled to give 
myself. You may as well know the worst, as I 
find many people are rather annoyed if they talk 
to me first and discover what I am afterwards. 
Do you read the proceedings of the divorce court?” 

“Never,” said Rodney, with unnecessary em- 
phasis. Then he saw his blunder and added, 
“I am so sorry. I ought not to have said it like 
that.” 

“No apology is needed, Mr. Trelawney, but if 
you don’t read divorce cases you won’t have 
heard of the Lanchester divorce — my first and 
only essay in publicity?” 

“The Lanchester case? Was that you?” He 


132 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


thought for a moment. “No, I didn't read it, 
but I heard something about it from a friend of 
mine who's a solicitor. You divorced your hus- 
band?” She nodded. “And then refused to 
accept alimony?” 

“That is so. That's why I am working up 
here. I married at nineteen, and the divorce 
took place two years ago, when I was twenty- 
one. You will excuse my trailing this family 
history before you, but so many good charitable 
souls refuse to associate with a woman in my 
position without in the least studying who it 
was who filed the petition, that I wanted to put 
you on your guard.” 

Rodney leaned forward and spoke very seriously. 

“Miss Sutherland, I am privileged to have 
been taken into your confidence, and if I may 
do so without offence, I should like to offer you 
my very sincere sympathy.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Trelawney. I suppose I 
ought to be grateful, but I try so hard to keep 
from pitying myself that I always discourage 
sympathy in others. Don't think me ungracious, 
but it is apt to remind me of what I want forgotten. 
I only like to look forward. I’m twenty-three, in 
perfect health, with plenty of work to keep my 
mind occupied, and I make enough money to 
keep the wolf from the door. Above all, I'm per- 
fectly independent; and, taken together, these 
things are helping me to forget those two awful 
years.” 

Rodney pondered what she had been saying 
and then asked: 


IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION 133 


“Do you never feel lonely, Miss Sutherland, 
living up here all by yourself?” 

“ We cannot have it every way, Mr. Trelawney. 
I can’t have the joys of perfect independence and 
the pleasures without the responsibilities of 
society. You are a bachelor — excuse me, I can 
see that — do you never feel you would be happier 
with a wife? You live in college and dine with 
your colleagues and meet them in Common- 
room — do you never feel that the world is too 
much with you? As a matter of fact, I do some- 
times long to have someone to talk to, that is 
why I brought you here to tea instead of driving 
you into Oxford, which would have been if any- 
thing rather quicker. You see, I am quite frank 
with you.” 

“ You are, and I thank you for it.” 

“I will tell you something more. When you 
mentioned the Commemoration balls you made 
me feel — homesick’s not the right word — but I 
daresay you understand what I mean. I used to 
love dancing, and I suppose at twenty-three even 
in a life like mine it’s a little early to have the 
flesh properly mortified.” 

“At twenty-three — yes. Do you contemplate 
ever marrying again? I know it’s an impertinent 
question, but I’ve asked so many without being 
sent about my business that I’m growing bold. 
It’s not mere vulgar curiosity, but I’m really 
interested.” 

Miss Sutherland laughed. 

“Oh, if you ask questions I don’t like, I simply 


134 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


sha’nt answer them, but I don’t put this one in 
the tabooed area. I really don’t know. Need- 
less to say, I sha’nt many again at the age of 
nineteen, and I hope if I do remarry I shall have 
profited by my experience, but beyond that 
I keep an open mind. The married state doesn’t 
hold out any particular attractions for me at the 
moment, but, on the other hand, I have no 
insuperable objection to it. It’s simply a question 
of times and seasons and men and means. Is 
the leg any more comfortable now? We’ve been 
talking so hard that I forgot I was in charge of 
an invalid.” 

“It feels a bit hot, but it doesn’t hurt much 
now, thanks. How is the time getting on?” 

“It’s after five, about ten past. I think I ? ll 
put another bandage on and then motor you into 
Oxford. You will have to get a doctor to come 
and inspect the damage, but he had better come 
to your rooms, that will reduce your walking by 
one stage. I suppose the porter at your lodge 
will be able to give you a hand up?” 

“Oh, without a doubt.” He rolled up the leg 
of his trousers in readiness and watched her quick 
fingers unwinding the bandage. “What do you 
make of it, Miss Sutherland?” he asked. 

“There’s a most awful swelling. I don’t know, 
but I should think there’s water there. You’ll 
have to lie up for some time and rest it.” 

Rodney suddenly developed a boldness which 
surprised him. 

“Will you come and see me, Miss Sutherland? 


IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION 135 


I'm a very bad patient and want people to come 
and sympathize with me. Do say you will!’' 

She turned her large black eyes up to him and 
then broke into a laugh. 

“Why shouldn’t I? I’m afraid it would 
scandalize the college, but if you feel your repu- 
tation is beyond fear and reproach — I can say 
the same of mine.” 

“I’ll make assurance doubly sure by getting 
my mother to come up and maintain the pro- 
prieties. Then no one can object. When will 
you come?” 

“When would you like me to come?” 

“To-morrow?” 

“Isn’t that a little early?” 

“Well, you see, the knee may not be as bad 
as we think. I may be about again in a day or 
two, and then my excuse would be gone and all 
the interest attaching to me as an invalid would 
have evaporated. Make it to-morrow, at lunch 
time, and my mother will be there.” 

She laughed again at his importunity. 

“All right then, we’ll say to-morrow at lunch 
time. It’s the least I could do, seeing that you 
broke your knee in the service of my car. Now, 
are you ready to be moved?” 

“Not for one moment, please, Miss Sutherland. 
You say you pine for a Commem. ball: will you 
come to the Great Thomas ball with me? It’s 
fixed for the 21st, and ought to be a big success. 
I wasn’t thinking of going, but if I’m all right 
by then and you will come with me — then I shall 


136 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


be able to go with the certainty of enjoying 
myself.” 

“When you don’t even know if I can dance! 
No, we must be content with one thing at a time, 
Mr. Trelawney. I’ll lunch with you to-morrow 
and hear what the doctor says of your knee, and 
then we shall be in a position to discuss the ball.” 

The subject dropped, as her energies were now 
required for helping him into the car and driving 
him down into Oxford. She left him at the gate 
to the undisguised interest of the porter and a 
large number of undergraduates who were gath- 
ered there, and with the assistance of a stick and 
an arm he hobbled across to his rooms. 

It was late that night before he went to sleep. 
Not that the knee was paining him; the doctor 
had dressed it and made it comfortable, but he 
was thinking of a slight-figured girl with black 
hair and eyes and an unusually white skin. He 
fell to an analysis of his own feelings and noted 
that the predominant feeling was one of pity for 
the young life that had already been so cruelly 
mauled. Pity was a new sensation to him. He 
had always looked for something to admire, some- 
thing to gratify his love for perfection in form, 
and though the girl’s face with its quiet melan- 
choly beauty haunted his memory, he felt that 
admiration of her was subservient to a quite 
unselfish pity. The feeling was so unusual that 
he gave it full play, and did not notice that for 
the time being it completely eliminated from his 
mind that other feeling which hitherto he had 
cherished for the memory of Myra Woodbridge. 


CHAPTER VIII 


PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK 

“Could thou and I conspire 
To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire, 

Would we not shatter it to bits? and then 
Remould it nearer to our Heart’s Desire.” 

— Omar Khayyam. 


M RS. FITZROY continued to think of 
Rodney and his troubles as the car ran 
on through the blazing June sunshine to 
London. She was genuinely fond of him 
and had long felt that he would lose much of his ner- 
vous instability and preoccupation if he had a wife 
to look after and to look after him. She was 
aware of the difficulties of finding a girl to suit 
Rodney’s exacting taste, but Myra Woodbridge 
in looks and intellect and personal charm stood 
in a category of her own and challenged a new 
canon of criticism. They had met at dinner in 
her house in Pont Street three months before, 
and Evelyn Fitzroy had been gratified beyond 
her most sanguine expectations by the success 
of the meeting. Rodney had capitulated at 
once, as she knew he would in the presence of 
Myra’s unusual beauty. It was the favorable 
impression that Rodney made on Myra which 
( 137 ) 


138 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


surprised her so agreeably. He was physically 
attractive to any girl, with his thin, tall figure, 
clear-cut intellectual face, and ready smile. He 
had had a brilliant career at school and at Oxford 
and could talk on all subjects, and talk well on 
some. But what endeared him most to his friends 
was his childlike simplicity and unworldliness, 
the doubtful privilege of an only son, and a source 
of amusement to men and of interest to women. 
No one could meet Rodney without liking him, 
but Evelyn Fitzroy knew well that any girl who 
was aware of Rodney’s fastidiousness and butter- 
fly preferences would regard marriage with him 
as a peculiarly speculative investment. That 
was why she had been doubtful of the reception 
he would obtain from Myra Woodbridge, who was 
the last person in the world to be content with a 
partial or ephemeral homage. But the arrival of 
Myra seemed to mark the end of Rodney’s butter- 
fly days. He regarded her as the embodiment 
of all the virtues which he had been seeking so 
many years and only finding here and there in 
isolated and otherwise unsatisfactory instances. 
His adoration of her had been whole-hearted, 
and few women are proof against devotion so 
manifestly sincere and single-minded. Evelyn 
Fitzroy would have been more than human if 
she had not rubbed her hands over the success 
of her nicely-laid schemes. All women and most 
men are matchmakers by primitive, irresistible 
instinct — the instinct of power — carrying as its 
reward the gratification of bending two unwilling 


PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK 139 


destinies to do one’s bidding. And in all women 
who are as happy as Mrs. Fitzroy had been in 
her married life, the instinct becomes a slavish 
passion to which every other pastime in life 
becomes subjected. 

As Myra Woodbridge entered the drawing-room 
in Pont Street, Evelyn Fitzroy was thinking of 
the temporary check she had sustained and won- 
dering what was the best means of repairing the 
damage done. She knew that Myra was far too 
subtle to be drawn into making any confidence 
against her will. It would be useless to give her 
rope, as Rodney had been given rope, in the cer- 
tain and comfortable expectation that she would 
lose no time in hanging herself. The best way 
would probably be to ask her frankly the why 
and the wherefore of her latest freak. She had 
too much sense of humor to evade a candid ques- 
tion, however little right the questioner might 
have to put it. Further, she was too combative 
and too anxious to justify her own conduct ever 
to decline a challenge if the old-fashioned and 
obvious-minded saw fit to place her on her de- 
fence. 

Mrs. Fitzroy raised her tall, graceful body from 
the chair in which she was sitting and went for- 
ward to meet her guest. She was one of those 
women who seem to attain their maturest develop- 
ment of body and mind at the age of forty and to 
live thereafter in the long full-bloom of summer. 
Her tall, well-formed figure, black hair and hand- 
some features had won the admiration of many 


140 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


young men besides Rodney Trelawney, who came 
to consult her in any crisis which demanded 
wisdom and sympathy and kindliness. Cyril 
Fitzroy pointed proudly to his aunt as the only 
one of his female relations of whose sanity he 
was perfectly convinced, and almost the only one 
of either sex who was perfectly dependable in 
an emergency. As a reward, if she had chosen 
to exact it, she had the gratification of knowing 
that Cyril would inconvenience himself for her 
in a way he would never dream of doing for any- 
one else. Evelyn Fitzroy was fully conscious of 
the influence she exerted among men, but by no 
means so certain in dealing with women, partic- 
ularly with a girl so independent and wayward 
as Myra. 

“Well, Myra, this is very good of you to come 
at a moment’s notice and take pity on my loneli- 
ness. My husband is in the country, the boys 
are still at school, and I should have spent the 
evening in solitary confinement but for you.” 

“Evelyn dear, I would come from the ends of 
the earth to see you. I had no idea you were 
going to be back in town again this season or I 
would have asked you to dine with Aunt Alice 
and go on with us to the Huntly’s to-night.” 

“Are you going there, Myra? Don’t say 
you’ve thrown her over to dine tete-a-tete with me?” 

“I don’t know really. If I feel strong and 
wakeful in two hours’ time I may requisition you 
to take me on there. Otherwise, quiet conversa- 
tion and early to bed.” 


PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK 141 


11 Dinner is served, madam.” Mrs. Fitzroy's 
Dome of Silence, as she called him, had noise- 
lessly come upon the scene apparently without 
the formality of opening the door. 

“You shall take me down, Myra dear, and if 
you want me later on I will come with you, 
though I’ve got a lot to say to you after dinner, 
and you will need all your strength for the ordeal.” 

The dinner passed quietly to the harmonious 
accompaniment of Mrs. Fitzroy's musical voice 
and Myra's silvery laugh. It was not until they 
had gone back to the drawing-room and coffee 
had been served that Myra broached the subject 
which had occupied her friend's thoughts. 

“Well, Evelyn, what have I done? Something 
that you disapprove? That I judge by your 
preoccupied air and the urgency of the telegram. 
Something to do with Oxford — because the wire 
was handed in there. What link have I with 
Oxford? Obviously you lunched with Rodney 
to-day. That is what we call feminine intuition.” 
Myra smiled to see the accuracy of her guesses 
and waited for Evelyn's confirmation. 

“My dear, conversation with you is an intel- 
lectual stimulus. You brush aside all preliminaries 
and vain repetitions and lay your hand on the 
heart of the subject. Yes, I lunched with Rod- 
ney, and I want you to tell me what you have 
been doing to him?” 

“Doing to Rodney? Nothing. I have hardly 
seen him for weeks.” 

“That in itself is significant.” 


142 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Of what? Have I to apportion my time so 
that I give eight hours to sleep, three to meals, 
two to Rodney and so forth? As you know, he 
has been in Oxford since the end of April.” 

“Not without a break.” 

“No, he was in town this week. I had tea 
with him and he came on to Aunt Alice’s ball.” 

“Well?” 

“Well? My dear Evelyn, we are at a dead- 
lock. Tell me what you want me to say and I 
will say it.” 

“I want to know what happened at the ball.” 

“At the ball? Oh, Rodney promised to meet 
me at eleven and then never turned up till about 
one. In the meantime I had made other arrange- 
ments for the evening and he seemed rather upset 
because I would not dance with him. Do you 
blame me, Evelyn?” 

“No, dear, I don’t. But I want you to think 
very seriously over what I am going to say to 
you. I was motoring through Oxford to-day 
and went to lunch with Rodney. He seemed 
fearfully despondent about something, and though 
he would not tell me what was the matter, I 
chose to fancy (never mind why!) that you were 
in some way connected with his condition of 
gloom. Now, Myra, you and Rodney have 
seen a great deal of each other during the last 
few months, and you must know each other 
fairly by now. Rodney’s opinion of you I know; 
he burns incense to an accompaniment of Nunc 
Dimittis and thanks his God that he has been 


PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK 143 


cast into the same generation that gave you 
birth. What your opinion of Rodney is I have 
no idea. If he is merely the male variety of the 
human species and nothing more — well, so much 
the worse for him, and the sooner he outgrows 
his infatuation the better for his peace of mind. 
If he is anything more to you, Myra, I think it 
is time for you to thaw a little.” 

“In plain language, Evelyn?” 

“In plain language, my dear, Rodney is in love 
with you and wants you to marry him, and he 
only wants a spark of encouragement to bring 
him up to the mark.” 

Myra walked to the fireplace and rested one 
elbow on the mantelpiece, leaning her head on 
her hand. 

“You are almost right, Evelyn, but not quite. 
Rodney asked me to marry him on the afternoon 
before Aunt Alice’s ball and I told him to wait 
till eleven o’clock for my answer. He wrote to 
me the morning after the ball — pages and pages 
of apology and importunity — begging me to give 
him a favorable reply.” 

“And what have you done?” 

“I told him I was not sufficiently certain of my 
feelings in the matter at the present time to give 
him an affirmative answer.” 

A long silence followed. Though Myra had 
spoken quite dispassionately, it was clear to the 
older woman that there had been struggle, pain, 
and uncertainty before the decision had been 
made. Mrs. Fitzroy was doing battle with her 


144 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


disapppointment. She was so convinced of the 
perfect suitability of the match that it had come 
as a blow to find she was faced with a cause 
jugee. She did not know how to fathom the 
reason which had prompted Myra to her decision; 
it might be a whim, or it might be the result of 
careful, painful deliberation — with Myra one 
could never tell. The one thing which stood out 
very clearly in Mrs. Fitzroy’s eyes was that the 
reason — however sound for Myra — was insufficient 
for herself. Myra’s judgment of Rodney and of 
his suitability as a husband had come into conflict 
with her own, and the only satisfactory solution 
was for Myra to go to the wall. Being human, 
Mrs. Fitzroy had become a matchmaker; becom- 
ing a matchmaker she had dehumanized herself. 

The silence was broken by Myra moving a 
footstool to the front of Mrs. Fitzroy’s chair 
and seating herself upon it in an attitude of 
humility. 

“Well, Evelyn,” she said, “I want you to say 
what you think of my action.” 

“No, dear, you want me to say I approve of 
it, which is a very different thing. This is a 
matter about which I can express no opinion. 
I am too much biased in Rodney’s favor to view 
him with judicial eyes. If you think you can 
secure his happiness and your own by marrying 
him, you will do so without being influenced by 
me, and similarly if you feel faced by — what is 
it called? — incompatibility of temperament, you 
will not be argued out of your opinions by me. 


PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK 145 


I only offer this suggestion to you — have you 
thought sufficiently of Rodney’s request and are 
you sure that you are ever likely to meet with 
the same whole-hearted adoration as he will 
give you?” 

“ Evelyn, will you please try to believe me when 
I say that whole-hearted adoration is about the 
one thing in the world I could not stand. I am 
speaking seriously now. There is a strange 
doctrine which people used to accept but which 
I absolutely reject, that the privilege of selecting 
a mate was vested in the male and that woman’s 
liberty of action began and ended when she said 
‘yes’ or ‘no’ to a proposal of marriage. In early 
society wives used to be won in battle, or stolen 
as the Romans stole their Sabine brides. Then 
they were bought from dealers in the open market; 
then their parents parted with them for a con- 
sideration. We are still passing through succes- 
sive stages of evolution, and nowadays we plume 
ourselves on the perfect absence of restriction 
in marriage. In a sense it’s true : women are not 
forced to marry if they refuse point-blank to enter 
the church, but it’s an illusory sort of freedom. 
They can’t go out and seek their husbands as the 
men can go out and seek their wives.” Myra 
paused. “You did not know I was a believer in 
woman’s rights and the equality of the sexes, did 
you, Evelyn?” 

“My dear, I cannot imagine where you have 
been learning such — well, wrong-headed ideas. 
You are as free to choose a husband as Tom, 


10 


146 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Dick and Harry are free to choose wives. There 
is a question and answer in every marriage. 
Man is free to put the question, but woman is 
equally free to answer it how she pleases. You 
have just shown that yourself.” 

“But that is not the liberty I want. I am not 
content with it. A man is free to overcome a 
woman’s resistance and force her to love him. 
A woman has adoration offered her with the 
alternative, take it or leave it. That is my only 
complaint against Rodney.” 

“I do not understand you, Myra.” 

“I am afraid you never will, Evelyn, on this 
subject — but I will try to make my meaning clear. 
My father objected to anything being given to 
anybody without payment. He used to say that 
price and value were indissolubly connected in 
the English mind. Give a thing for nothing and 
it will be valued at nothing. Give poor people 
free education and they regard it as valueless. 
Similarly in this case. If Rodney gives me the 
whole-hearted adoration you speak of — and I 
don’t have to struggle for it — I shall count it 
as valueless, and in course of time it will die of 
neglect. Which is not a good condition for 
‘sickness and health, weal and woe’ for life. I 
know the idea is not usual, but I firmly believe 
in it.” 

“But, my dear, granted for the sake of argu- 
ment that all you say is true — granted that woman 
has only a passive part to play in the preliminaries 
of marriage — granted that it is all very wrong and 
dreadful — how do you propose to remedy it?” 


PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK 147 


Myra thought for a moment before replying, 
and then raised her large dark eyes to Mrs. 
Fitzroy. 

“The remedy is to find someone who attracts 
me and force him to love me whether he wants 
to or not. And when I have won his love I shall 
value it, and when he has had to part with it 
with a struggle he will see the value I put upon it 
and know it is in good hands, and he will honor 
me for the fight I have fought and the victory 
I have won.” 

“And the reluctant, passive victim — have you 
found him yet?” 

“I am not sure, Evelyn, I really do not know.” 

Mrs. Fitzroy suppressed a tendency to yawn. 

“Time deals hardly with me, Myra. I am just 
about double your age and I am trying to remem- 
ber whether I shared your feelings when I was 
twenty. I don’t think I can have or I should 
remember it. Besides, I never had sufficient 
admiration to turn my head and make me blasee. 
I wonder if your life will be more amusing than 
mine. I can find it in my heart to envy you 
your pursuit of the unattainable.” 

“I lodge an objection against ‘ blasee 1 and 
‘ unattainable.’ ‘ Amusing’ is allowed to stand. 
I only show you the influence of modern ideas 
on the formation of character.” 

“My dear Myra, modern ideas on life and morals 
are like modern ideas on medicine. One or two 
quack remedies are harmful; the rest are the old 
family prescriptions which our grandmothers 


148 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


used, poultices and mustard plasters and so forth, 
served up in a new and far more expensive form. 
There is nothing much of the modern spirit about 
you, Myra.” 

“So your nephew, Cyril, tells me. He says I 
am primitive, the incarnation of woman’s blind 
husband-getting instinct run riot and preying on 
the male portion of society. Which reminds me 
of a grievance I have against you. Why did 
you never let me meet Cyril at this house? How- 
ever, we’ll deal with that later. He divides the 
stages of man’s evolution into three. First comes 
man the body-hunter, the ancient Roman who 
stole his bride; then man the heart-hunter, the 
philanderer — what we used to call the flirt before 
that word was relegated to the provinces — I fancy 
Rodney was dragged in as an example of the 
second class. Finally comes the latest develop- 
ment, the soul-hunter, and this is the class to 
which Cyril claims to belong. He tells me he is 
a collector of unusual souls and a connoisseur of 
rare emotions. The pursuit as he conducts it is 
a sexless one: the body which was the governing 
influence in the first stage and the heart in the 
second, have been left behind. It is a purely 
intellectual research. He amuses me this nephew 
of yours.” 

“Where did you meet him?” 

“At Aunt Alice’s ball.” 

“Before or after Rodney’s appearance?” 

“Oh, before, hours before. Now let me help 
you out with your inference. I danced with him 


PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK 149 


from 11.30 till about 4.30 without a break. Then 
we had supper alone in the library. So much for 
the facts. You are now going to infer that I have 
found in him the reluctant passive victim, and 
that both he and Rodney are being sacrificed to 
make a Roman holiday? Is it not so?” 

“My dear, I can only repeat that conversation 
with you is an intellectual stimulus. How is he 
taking the treatment?” 

Myra began to look mischievous. 

“I hardly know yet, but he dropped on one 
knee and kissed my hand on leaving.” 

“Don’t tell me that Cyril is becoming softly 
sentimental. It would shatter the last of my few 
remaining illusions.” 

“No, I don’t think it was sentimental; it was 
slightly theatrical and seemed a carefully thought- 
out pose.” 

“That is more like my cherished nephew. 
And now, Myra — if you want me to take you 
to the Huntly’s — we ought to be making a start.” 


CHAPTER IX 


AT AN STRUTHER PARK 

“Raro antecedentem scelestum 
Deseruit pede poena claudo.” — Horace. 

L ORD DARLINGTON'S house-party ar- 
rived at Anstruther Park in April weather. 
J Brilliant sunshine had been punctuated by 
rainstorms the day through, and at five 
o' clock in the afternoon it was felt to be prudent 
to take tea within doors rather than risk another 
downpour on the lawn. The guests distributed 
themselves about the] long hall while Lady Violet 
ministered to their wants from a small table in 
the center. Cyril made himself useful for a 
strictly limited period in handing round cups of 
tea, and then withdrew to a remote window-seat 
where he observed his uncle and John Stanford 
already established. 

“Well, my young friends,” he remarked, “have 
you introduced yourselves? Everard, this is 
John Stanford, ‘faithful and just to me, Tho' 
Brutus saith he was ambitious/ In what way 
ambitious I know not. He plays the flute, but 
that is one of the things we have in mind when 
we pray to be cleansed of our secret faults. 
Johnny, let me introduce my uncle Everard, a 
( 150 ) 


AT ANSTRUTHER PARK 


151 


gay eupeptic son of Belial. Not to know Everard. 
Fitzroy confesses an imperfect education. Well, 
Everard, what’s the news?” 

“ Nothing, my dear boy, nothing. I see you 
are still invited out in respectable society.” 

“Ah, it won’t last much longer. Darlington 
has me here to rob me of my glorious manhood 
and turn me to a useful purpose in life. If he 
fails I shall be flung from the doors; and if he 
succeeds, why, there will be no need to inflict 
my presence on the household. My tenure is of 
the most precarious.” 

“Why does he single you out for these marked 
and embarrassing attentions?” 

“Oh, I’m not singled out. Anybody is liable. 
It’s just a bad habit, picked up in youth and 
never shaken off. He can’t bear to see anyone 
idle, and always wants to cripple a man’s artificial 
development by taking him out of himself and 
making him work.” Cyril rose from the window- 
seat and retired to have his cup replenished. 
“Darlington never appreciates the unique social 
position occupied by people like myself. If I 
were poorer I should have to work for my living. 
If I were richer I should have a position to keep 
up, landed estates and so forth. Probably I 
should be hounded into Parliament or diplomacy. 
If I were discontented or ambitious or wanted 
to marry or wished in any way to change my lot, 
gone would be my peace and happiness. I should 
become like Darlington or Hugo or Johnny here, 
instead of remaining” — he looked up at his uncle 


152 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


with a smile — “like you. Circumstances have 
conspired to give me a tub set in a sunny patch 
of ground. Before it flows a stream of fresh 
water equally adaptable for drinking or bathing 
purposes. The ravens bring me my food — 
punctually on the first of March and September 
with a certificate from the secretary that income 
tax has been, or will be, deducted. What more 
can a perfectly contented mind require?” 

“Tobacco,” remarked a voice at his elbow. 

“Hallo, Violet,” he exclaimed, turning round 
and helping himself to a cigar from the box she 
held out. “How long have you been standing 
there? I’ve just been speaking disparagingly of 
your father.” 

“Lady Violet,” said Everard, “can you with- 
out troubling yourself unduly make arrangements 
to take Cyril away? No violence, of course, but 
he has talked incessantly ever since he entered 
the house.” 

“And for a long time before,” interjected Stan- 
ford. “When I was at Oxford my Greats tutor 
used to lecture on Subjective Idealism. Oh, it’s 
not so bad as it sounds — it’s just the theory that 
the external world exists only in our imagination, 
that you see that tea-table because you happen 
to be thinking of it, and as soon as you cease to 
think of it, it ceases to exist. I remember I used 
to go back to my rooms gingerly and on tiptoe 
to see if the poker was in the fireplace and had 
been there the whole time, or whether it would 
just jump into position as I opened the door. 


AT ANSTRUTHER PARK 


153 


I get the same feeling with Cyril. I have been 
in his company half an hour and he has talked 
incessantly. I met him at dinner two nights 
ago and the same thing happened, and a fort- 
night ago I spent a week-end with him in exactly 
the same circumstances. Has he, like the objec- 
tive poker, been talking incessantly in the intervals 
when I have not seen him, or is it a tragic feature 
of my subjective state that I should be unable 
to conjure up a picture of Cyril other than in full 
tongue?” 

Cyril looked up to Lady Violet with a plain- 
tive expression. 

“Take me away, dear, where I shall be appre- 
ciated. Take me by the hand and lead me far 
from this brute creation, where I can smoke in 
peace and by a happy reversal of the natural 
order you can talk to me.” He got up and pre- 
pared to go, but his uncle could not resist a part- 
ing shot. 

“Take him away, Lady Violet, and Keep him 
from talking. That is the first step. Then keep 
him from smoking, that is the second. He smokes 
far too much.” 

Cyril turned round. 

“My dear Everard, one must do something 
between meals. You seem to have lost the art 
of passing time.” 

“Wait till you are married, my boy, and your 
wife makes you work all day, and you are glad 
to get ten minutes in the middle of the day for 
a hurried luncheon, and as a special concession 


154 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


you are allowed one pipe in the kitchen after the 
servants have gone to bed.” 

“Are these the terms on which one enters the 
much- vaunted married state? 

“ ‘Pass me the old cigar box, let me consider anew, 

Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you? 

A million surplus women are willing to bear the yoke, 

A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke! 

Come on, Vi dear, and leave Everard to talk on 
a subject of which he knows nothing save from 
the groans and anguished cries of the suffering 
victims.” 

It had stopped raining and they wandered out 
on to the terrace, followed by the rest of the party. 
Lord Darlington alone remained behind, talking 
to Enid Sutherland. 

“Now that we’re by ourselves, Enid,” he 
began, “I want to speak to you on rather an 
important subject. You know the Vice-royalty 
of India is vacant?” 

“Yes, it was in the papers a few weeks ago. 
Are they going to give you the appointment?” 

“I don’t know yet. So far as I can make out 
there are a good many possible men for the post 
and I am told I stand about third on the list. 
Warlingham is first favorite; if he refuses, Duck- 
worth has the next claim; and if Duckworth 
doesn’t want it, I gather I may be approached. 
There are two lives between me and the throne, 
but neither of these men is young, and India is 
unusually restive at the present time. Conse- 


AT ANSTRTJTHER PARK 


155 


quently I have to see whether I shall be in a posi- 
tion to accept it if the offer conies my way.” 

Enid nodded. 

“I see. What are you going to do about 
Violet?” 

“That’s the difficulty. She’s too young and 
the country’s too disturbed for me to take her 
with me, and I’ve no relations I would trust to 
look after her. I’ve been thinking of setting up a 
commission of two as her guides, philosophers, 
friends, and trustees. I want you to be one.” 

“Who is to be the other?” 

“Say you’ll accept and then I’ll tell you.” 

“Oh, but that is too much of a leap in the dark! 
However, I suppose you can be relied on to make 
choice of a fairly safe and dependable person?” 

“That’s just what he’s not. For twenty-three 
hours out of the twenty-four you would say he 
was the unfittest person in the length and breadth 
of the land for such a position. Then in the 
twenty-fourth you’d say he was the right man. 
Will you take the leap blindfold?” 

“Yes, if you’ll * answer one question. Is ’t 
Cyril Fitzroy?” 

Lord Darlington looked surprised. 

“My dear Enid, how did you guess that? Yes, 
it is Cyril. Now, will you act with him? I don’t 
think you even know him yet, do you?” 

“Oh, yes, I do, I’ve known him some time and 
I shall be quite content with him as fellow-trustee. 
He worships Violet as woman was never wor- 
shipped before.” 


156 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“That is his sole redeeming feature. I am 
afraid I get very impatient with him at times. 
I like him, and don’t want to see him wasting 
himself as he is doing at present.” 

Enid began to laugh. 

“Dear Lord Procrustes, you are a very bad 
judge of human nature. Everyone has to fit 
your bed straight away or you chop off their feet 
or roll them out till they do. All young men 
must be filled with a desire to serve their fellow- 
man: they must go down to the Samurai settle- 
ment and spread enlightenment among the unedu- 
cated, relieve the suffering, succor the poor, and 
finally return to Westminster primed with knowl- 
edge of working-class conditions acquired at first 
hand. If they don’t ” 

Lord Darlington smiled. 

“It’s a true bill, I’m afraid, Enid. I’m too 
impatient to make a successful reformer, but life 
is so short that I cannot bear to see a moment 
of time or an ounce of energy wasted. And you 
know, Enid, Procrustes or no Procrustes, there 
is a whole store of natural benevolence — for lack 
of a better term — in our young men, and w T hy not 
organize it and turn it to profitable account?” 

“Natural benevolence, yes. But it doesn’t 
always take the form of wanting to do social work 
in the East End. My charge against you, Lord 
Darlington, is that you make it your test of 
natural benevolence in young men, whether they 
are willing to play billiards with the horny-handed 
sons of toil or hold services and get up sing-songs 


AT ANSTRUTHER PARK 


157 


among hop-pickers in Kent. That may suit 
Mortimer Forrest or John Stanford. It doesn't 
happen to suit people like Cyril or Rodney 
Trelawney." 

“Oh, I have no complaint aginst Rodney. He 
is doing work useful to society every day of his 
life. An Oxford don has men of all kinds passing 
through his hands; they come to him from a 
dozen different schools, each with a fresh, vigorous 
outlook on life. They fall under the spell of Ox- 
ford and drink in its enthusiasms and its prej- 
udices. Rodney's task lies in directing their 
talents into the proper channel and working to 
bring the curriculum of the University more into 
touch with the public needs of our daily life. 
He has sent me a great deal of promising material. 
Rodney is exercising a very useful function. 
I wish I could think the same of Cyril." 

“Poor Cyril! He will never darken the doors 
of your settlement, Lord Procrustes — and yet he 
is capable of exercising a useful function, "j 

“I doubt it." 

“Oh, no, you don’t, or you wouldn’t put Violet 
in his charge. I told you you didn’t know much 
about human nature, but you know just enough 
to realize that in choosing Cyril for this position 
you have made a wise choice. That is his func- 
tion." 

“What is his function?" 

“To find somebody very young and beautiful 
and rather helpless or in trouble and then look 
after them. Cyril will make an admirable watch- 


158 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


dog. Give him beauty in distress to protect and 
he will protect it. The distress without the 
beauty doesn’t amuse or interest him.” 

Lord Darlington snorted. 

“Is Violet beauty in distress?” 

“She is beauty certainly, though not in dis- 
tress, I am glad to say. But she is rather depend- 
ent on others, or I should say on Cyril, and as 
long as she trusts him as implicitly as at present 
he will rise to his position.” 

Lord Darlington picked up a cigarette and lit it. 

“Cyril has a better advocate in you than he 
knows or deserves, Enid.” 

“Not than he deserves. I owe a good deal to 
him.” 

“To Cyril? How long have you known him?” 

“Oh, some time now. I first met him shortly 
before my divorce. All through the proceedings 
he sat in court to keep me company and used 
to take me out to dinner in order to distract my 
mind. He used to read to me in the evenings, 
in the middle of the London season too, and when 
I went away into the country he used to send me 
books and letters eight pages long to amuse me.” 

“Beauty in distress again. I wish for his sake, 
Enid, you would marry him and make his flow of 
natural benevolence a little less intermittent.” 

“Marry Cyril! how little you know him, Lord 
Darlington.” 

“He says he will never marry. Do you believe 
him?” 

“Most men of his age say that. It is vanity 


AT ANSTRUTHER PARK 


159 


natural to their period of life and imparts a deli- 
cate suggestion that they could choose out of a 
thousand if they cared to fling down their glove, 
but that nobody they have so far met is quite 
worthy to pick it up. If Cyril says he is not 
going to marry, it is partly from vanity and partly 
because he understands himself almost as little 
as you understand him.” 

“And do you understand him, my wise young 
judge?” 

“I think I do, better than anyone else of his 
friends. I will even imperil my reputation for 
wisdom by making prophecies. Cyril will marry 
— when, I know not. But I think I know his 
destined bride. And her name I tell not.” Enid 
got up with an expression of amusement in her 
dark eyes. “I will just repeat that it is not me. 
Cyril has never asked me and never will. We 
are just very intimate friends, and Cyril never 
behaves to a woman as if he were in love with 
her. As we are character-reading and fortune- 
telling, I will inform you that that is his most 
dangerous quality. If he is not careful his indif- 
ference to women will get him into trouble. Most 
women have in their veins a few drops of the blood 
of Phaedra and Pharoah’s wife, and a cold-hearted 
man is a challenge to them to put forth all their 
powers.” 

“You know too much, Enid. And you have 
far too high an opinion of our young detrimental.” 

“Never mind, Lord Darlington. If I have 
put him on a pedestal I will redress the balance 


160 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


by debasing one of your idols. Rodney Tre- 
lawney will never get into trouble through cold- 
ness of heart. That organ suffers in his case from 
overfeeding and superfluous warmth.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Just this, that he is so ready to be in love 
with the first woman he meets that he throws 
himself at her feet, offers her the ripe devotion 
of a lifetime, and then, when he has had time to 
cool down and see that she does not come up to 
his standard of perfection in all ways, off he 
rushes and goes through the same performance 
ten yards away.” 

“You’re a little hard on Rodney, Enid.” 

“Not unduly. He’s a man who is captivated 
by every pretty face he sees and makes rather 
an exhibition of himself under its inspiration. 
He should take time to consider before making 
himself conspicuous.” 

“And what will his fate be, Sibyl? Will the 
pretty face some day make him its victim?” 

“That is the risk he runs; but I think some day 
he will meet a pretty face with brains behind it 
and sufficient magnetism to keep him from stray- 
ing away in search of other pretty faces. That 
will be what Cyril calls Rodney’s Ideal.” 

They had walked to the door and stood for a 
moment to watch the little groups distributed 
over the lawn. Myra Woodbridge and Cyril 
Fitzroy, racquets in hand, walked past them 
along the terrace in the direction of the tennis 
court. Lord Darlington watched them pass and 
then turned to Enid. 


AT ANSTRUTHER PARK 


161 


“Can you add to your list of prophecies by 
saying whom Rodney will marry?” 

Enid’s black eyes were strictly non-committal. 

“I think I can, Lord Darlington, but I don’t 
think I shall. These affinities should take place 
without the rude interference of the well-disposed 
helping hand,” 


11 


CHAPTER X 


LISTENERS HEAR GOOD OF THEMSELVES 

“I promised if you’d see a dinner out 
We’d see truth dawn together.” — Browning. 

44 yr O VE up to this end of the table, E verard, 
\ / 1 and bring your glass with you/ ’ The 

-L ▼ JL Earl of Darlington resumed his seat 
after the temporary disturbance caused 
by the ladies leaving the room and watched hisguests 
consoling themselves for the absence of the gentler 
sex with coffee and cigars. “Try one of the long 
fellows, they’re much milder than they look, and 
we’ve got the whole evening before us.” 

“Your daughter makes a most prepossessing 
hostess, Darlington. I fancy she was still in the 
schoolroom when I was last here. How long has 
she been promoted to the head of the table?” 

“Oh, only this year. You see, she’s not yet 
sixteen, and it would be a pity to bring her on 
too quickly. At least that’s what your nephew 
tells me.” 

“Not quite in those words, Lord Darlington.” 
Cyril Fitzroy moved to a vacant chair between 
his uncle and their host and selected a cigar with 
some deliberation. “I fancy I told you that she 
ought to be forbidden all adult society for another 
( 162 ) 


LISTENERS 


163 


two or three years. You’re robbing her of the 
most glorious years of her life by bringing her 
into contact with middle-aged sinners like Ever- 
ard. I also told you that you were not fit to be 
trusted with a daughter like Violet.” 

“You did, with your customary candor. I 
remember it now. Well, we will start acting on 
your advice at once; I will tell Violet not to have 
anything to do with you for three years.” 

“Ah, but I don’t rank as adult society. I’m 
only twenty-three and feel much younger. That’s 
what you never understand, Lord Darlington, 
when you tell me to take a serious interest in life. 
It will be time enough for that when I’m Everard’s 
age and have lost my youth and my figure in the 
remorseless passage of years.” 

“I object to this pose of extreme youthfulness. 
It is put forward as an excuse for leading an 
unprofitable life and prematurely acquiring all 
the narrowness and rigidity of middle-aged 
bachelorhood.” 

“Save me from my friends,” exclaimed Everard 
Fitzroy. “I object to the assumption of narrow- 
ness and rigidity as being part and parcel of 
bachelor life. Bachelorhood is not an age or 
condition; it is an art, and nowadays nearly a 
lost art. What I really resent is the lack of 
reverence which extreme youthfulness offers to 
its elders.” 

“But there is nothing dignified or worthy of 
respect in middle-age.” Cyril leaned forward 
and reached his coffee-cup. “Middle-age is a 


164 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


confession of failure; an admission that you have 
lost the art of being amused and keeping young. 
The world is a diverting place if you know how 
to make it amusing — and therein lies the import- 
ance of a right choice in the kind of life you lead. 
‘The condition of perfection is idleness; the aim 
of perfection is youth.’ That is a wise saying. 
Everard is idle, but still grows middle-aged. He 
is a failure in life. Lord Darlington is active, 
what the journalists call ‘one of the world’s 
workers,’ but he gets careworn and middle-aged. 
He allows things to worry him; it irritates him 
to see in me the ideal of perfect unprofitable con- 
tentment. Therefore he is a failure in life.” 

“I really think you cannot be as young as you 
pretend, Cyril, or you would not have had time 
to accumulate your present colossal ignorance of 
the world. Life contains a good deal of bitter 
fruit, and when you have tasted it you will alter 
your views on care-worn middle-age and the art 
of keeping young. To the failure of six-and- 
forty the art does not appear so simple as to the 
brilliant success of twenty-three.” 

“But no art is simple, Lord Darlington, or it 
would lose its value. The problem of life is to 
avoid the bitter fruit; until you eat it, it does 
not exist. Until you feel it for the first time, 
toothache does not exist. If you eat no fruit 
at all, you make certain at least of avoiding the 
bitter.” 

“You must expound the parable, Cyril.” 

“Simply this. You come ‘into the universe 


LISTENERS 


165 


and Why not knowing nor Whence, like water 
willy-nilly flowing, and out of it, like wind upon 
the waste — you know not whither willy-nilly 
blowing/ You have a certain number of years 
to occupy before you are gathered to your fathers 
and it is to your interest that those years shall 
pass as pleasantly as possible, and you make such 
arrangements as seem likely to secure that end. 
Some marry wives and bring up families, some 
devote their lives to the advancement of learning, 
some to public affairs, some to philanthropy and 
the relief of suffering; we all have our little 
preferences. Now, I am not a gambler and I wish 
to take no risks. I do not aim at the big prizes 
and I have a right to expect to avoid the big 
losses. These men I have mentioned — the hus- 
band, the father, the statesman, and so forth — 
seek to increase the total of their happiness by 
attaching themselves to some person or cause 
external to themselves. This becomes the ab- 
sorbing interest of their lives. You remember 
the Indian fairy story of the man who kept his 
soul locked up in a hidden place to save it from 
injury? As long as his soul was strong and 
healthy, he was strong and healthy; but one day 
an enemy discovered the hiding-place and tor- 
tured his soul and tore it limb from limb, and as 
the soul writhed and lost its members, so the 
man’s body writhed and dropped piece from 
piece. That is what the gamblers do. They lock 
their happiness up in a wife, or in children, or in 
public affairs; and as long as the hiding-place is 


166 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


undisturbed and no malignant spirit attacks it, 
they are happy. But when the evil hour comes, 
they find themselves torn limb from limb.” 

“And the wise man who does not gamble?” 

“Oh, he seeks to keep himself independent of 
all extraneous entanglements. He might possibly 
increase his happiness by marrying; but to marry 
a wife is to give a hostage to fortune. The wife 
might be a bad choice; or, again, she might be 
a good choice, and then sadden his whole life by 
dying young. Perhaps you will say that a few 
years of married bliss will outweigh an age of 
bereavement. If that is your view — act upon it. 
The wise man sees it in its true light, as a pure 
speculation, and avoids it.” 

• “And do you imagine that it is possible for a 
man to live in this splendid isolation? You may 
try to live as a hermit and avoid contact with 
your fellow-man for fear of becoming involved in 
his troubles, but are you — is any man strong 
enough to avoid being dragged by the capricious 
hand of fate out of your hermitage and plunged 
into the stormy waters of someone else's destiny?” 

“You must keep the two questions separate, 
please. I claim that it is possible for a man to 
suppress what you would call every natural feel- 
ing, to love nothing, to hate nothing, to desire 
nothing, to miss nothing; in a word, to lay up 
no treasure on earth for fear of thieves breaking 
in and moths corrupting. The other question is 
one of luck. You have no control over it, and 
if you are anxious for excitement, it is this pos- 


LISTENERS 


167 


sibility of disturbance which will provide it. 
Personally I have no such desire, and my sole 
misgiving is that I may be placed against my 
will in a position where the isolation of my life 
will be violated.” 

Lord Darlington knocked the ash off his cigar. 

“What do you think of the doctrine, Everard?” 

“I agree with you that such colossal ignorance 
is precocious and almost uncanny. He is a per- 
fectly safe companion for your daughter.” 

“Then my point is gained.” Cyril smiled and 
stood up to stretch himself. “I am going to talk 
to Violet now, and she is going to play to me, 
and then I shall send her to bed.” 

“Suppose she refuses to go?” 

“I shall exercise my authority. Remember, 
I am her prospective guardian.” He moved 
towards the door. 

“What is the allusion to the prospective guard- 
ian?” asked Everard Fitzroy as he and Lord 
Darlington prepared to follow Cyril out of the 
room. 

“Oh, I told him that he would have to act if 
I got sent to India, but I don't know that there 
is any likelihood of my having to take so drastic 
a course.” 

“By the way, there has been no hint as yet 
who the new man will be?” 

“No, the likely people are all jibbing. India 
is a tough place to govern at the present moment 
— and there are so many of the unlikely people 
such as myself that there are no limits to the field 
of speculation.” 


168 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


There was a slight stir in the drawing-room as 
the men entered and selected positions for that 
most trying of ordeals, the five-minute exhuma- 
tion of dinner table conversation spanning the 
interval until someone has the initiative to pro- 
pose music or bridge. Lady Violet Anstruther 
and Myra Woodbridge were standing by one of 
the open French windows discussing the prospects 
of thunder. It has been hot all day in the in- 
tervals between the showers and the coming of 
rain seemed likely to occur at any moment. 
Cyril Fitzroy contemplated them at his leisure 
from the opposite end of the room and then 
strolled up to join them. 

“Vi, I have two requests to make — the first, 
that you gratify the assembled company by 
going to the piano and discoursing sweet music; 
the second, that you then slip noiselessly from 
the room and go to bed. You’re looking too tired 
to be keeping late hours in hot rooms. Don’t 
you agree with me, Miss Woodbridge?” • | 

“I agree as regards the sweet music and I agree 
over the hot room, but it isn’t really late yet. 
Also, I know that in my own case I should resent 
being ordered to bed in my own house by one of 
my guests.” 

“Violet does resent it — don’t you, Vi? but she 
recognizes the wisdom of the advice and she is 
going to act upon it. If only you were Violet’s 
age, Miss Woodbridge, you would be privileged 
to have the same boundless confidence in me that 
she has.” Cyril made a low bow and offered 


LISTENERS 


169 


his arm to escort her to the piano. Lady Violet 
smiled and took it. 

“Excuse my leaving you, Miss Woodbridge, 
but I will come back as soon as Fve finished 
playing. You probably know Cyril well enough 
to recognize that he usually gets what he wants 
by having no shame in asking for it. He also 
fancies he can wear down all opposition by dint 
of hard talking, but there he is wrong — as you 
will see.” She seated herself at the piano and 
struck a chord. Cyril stood leaning against the 
piano and watching her. 

“What's it to be, Cyril? Something dreamy to 
suit a hot evening and after-dinner somnolence — 
Marrakesh waltz, ‘L'heure d'amour’? No, I 
know what you want.” She struck another 
chord and began the opening bars of the “Rosen- 
kavalier” waltz. Cyril left his position at the 
end of the piano and walked quickly to the 
music stool. 

“Not that thing, Vi, I don't like it. I'm tired 
of it. Give us ‘L'heure d'amour.' ” 

Lady Violet paused in her playing for a frac- 
tion of time to consider whether to go on or change 
the waltz. In that moment the voice of Myra 
Woodbridge was heard saying: 

“Do go on, Lady Violet, I love the ‘Rosen- 
kavalier' waltz.” 

Violet looked up into Cyril's face with a defiant 
smile and continued playing. Cyril gave her a 
slightly mocking smile in reply, took a cigarette 
case from his pocket, selected a cigarette, and 


170 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


walked away to the farthest window. It stood 
open and he passed through, lighting the cigarette 
as he went. A broad terrace surrounded two 
sides of the house, and it was not until he had 
turned the corner and placed the angle of the 
house between himself and the offending music 
that he slackened his pace and seated himself 
on the stone parapet which separated the terrace 
from the long lawn sloping down to the river. 

The cigarette had come to an end and he was 
feeling in his pocket for a cigar when a step 
sounded on the gravel behind him, and he heard 
the sound of Myra Woodbridge’s voice. 

“The 1 Rosenkavalier ’ has lost its charm, I see, 
Mr. Fitzroy?” 

Cyril turned round and shifted his position 
slightly, so as to place Myra in the full light of 
the moon while he himself remained in shadow. 

“Air-proof and smoke-proof rooms have lost 
their charms, rather, Miss Woodbridge. As you 
know, I have no manners, and if I may not 
indulge my vices in public I prefer solitude to 
self-sacrifice.” 

“That no doubt explains why you were out of 
earshot of the music. I had an idea, somehow, 
that the waltz was a favorite of yours.” 

Cyril’s face became quite expressionless. 

“I never remember hearing it before; but, 
then, I go out so little and never attend dances 
in London, so that the new music is an unexplored 
territory to me.” 

“If this were a criminal court, Cyril, and you 


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171 


were trying to prove an alibi, I should under- 
stand the form of what you say, even if I did 
not understand the reason. Not being a criminal 
court, this gratuitous perjury seems a work of 
supererogation / 7 

Cyril laughed. 

“My dear Myra, you do not understand the 
artistic temperament. I told you at your aunt’s 
ball that I was a mere interlude in your life, a 
chance voice heard for a few hours on a summer’s 
morning, and having cast myself for that role, 
it is like a cut with a knife not to play it out to 
the end. I disapprove of the stage convention 
which encourages the dead to rise from their 
graves and take their calls.” 

“But I warned you that we should meet again, 
somewhere.” 

“True, but I took that as an unpardonable 
interference with my reading of the part. When 
I think out an elaborate pose I cannot allow any 
tampering with its details.” 

By this time Cyril had cut the cigar and was 
striking a match. Myra waited until he had 
sheltered the flame with his hands and unguard- 
edly allowed his face to be illuminated. Then she 
asked : 

“What was the reason for the pose? I confess 
it is beyond me, and to the untrained mind seems 
rather lacking in point.” 

“What is the reason for any pose? I suppose 
it is, Myra, that our real lives are so much alike 
and our souls so uninteresting that we have to 


172 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


pretend to be what we are not if we wish to 
excite any attention. If you could get a box of 
sardines to talk, half of them would claim to be 
shrimps and the other half mullet. Anything to 
get away from uniform reality. And that little 
harmless vanity is one of our strongest instincts.” 

“That explains posing in general, but not this 
pose in particular. I don't quite appreciate what 
it was and how it was intended to excite my 
attention.” 

“My dear Myra, it was simplicity itself. Most 
of your partners at a dance act as if you were 
the realization of their most cherished ideals, as 
if they could be happy only so long as you were 
graciously pleased to dance with them, and as if 
their highest hope were that they should some 
day count for something in your life. Do you 
admit the soft impeachment?” 

Myra nodded. 

“Some*of them do.” 

“Very well. That is their pose. Mine was the 
antithesis. I told you that I came to you as a 
stop-gap, to give you occupation until the partner 
you were expecting should arrive. I tried to make 
it clear that I offered you no devotion, that I 
felt no desire to count for anything in your life, 
and when I parted from you in the morning I 
told you as unmistakably as words could convey 
that I had said my lines, played my part, and 
was retiring ‘off.’ ” 

“You said that whenever I heard the ‘Rosen- 
kavalier’ played it would remind me of you. 


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173 


I think that was inartistic; it marred the air of 
finality.” 

“I also kissed your hand — dropping on one knee 
to do it. The mention of the 1 Rosenkavalier ’ 
was irrelevant — I admit it — and was only a mani- 
festation of man’s evergreen vanity and his desire 
to leave a tender impression and to rank as a 
romantic memory. I don’t excuse it. It was 
bad art. But the hand-kissing was superb: it 
was pure inspiration, and one of the finest ‘ cur- 
tains’ I have ever devised.” 

Myra began to laugh. 

“My friend, you divert me. This was all a 
pose, you say?” 

“What was all a pose?” 

“This pretended indifference and this affecta- 
tion of coming into my life for one night only.” 

Cyril pondered for a moment. 

“What a lot of subtlety you crowd into an 
innocent question. If I say it was a pose you will 
seize on my words, claim that my indifference was 
unreal and that I was really carried off my feet 
at sight of you. If I say it was not a pose — well 
— I shall have to eat every word I have said to 
you during these last ten minutes. I must ask 
for notice of that question, as our worthy Min- 
isters say.” 

“That is equivalent to admitting that it was 
a pose and nothing more. Now the reason of it.” 

“The real reason?” 

“Of course.” 

Cyril flicked the ash off his cigar and began to 
speak more seriously and slowly than before. 


174 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“My dear Myra, if you knew how adorable 
you looked that night you would not wonder at 
anyone coming and asking you to dance with 
him. That’s reason number one. Then you 
know, I’d seen you with Rodney Trelawney 
earlier in the day, and having some experience of 
Rodney’s fastidiousness in the matter of women, 
I wanted to see if I could approve of his latest 
choice. Is that sufficient explanation?” 

“No, Cyril, it explains nothing of what I must 
continue to regard as an irrational pose, quite 
unlike the usual fruit of your well-ordered mind.” 

“My dear, the pose was an unfamiliar gambit 
in the familiar game of soul-hunting. If I had 
offered you life-long adoration or looked at you 
with soft, yearning eyes, I know exactly what 
result I should have obtained, and I know equally 
that I should have got no insight into that most 
interesting soul of yours. But by pretending 
complete indifference to your not inconsiderable 
charms, I wanted to see if you would assume the 
offensive.” 

“And have I?” 

Cyril laughed. 

“Surely that is a question which you can best 
answer.” 

Myra thought for a moment. 

“And quite candidly that was your only mo- 
tive? You see, I’m a little given to soul-dissection 
myself, and I should so like to see what’s at the 
back of your mind.” 

“Oh, I have no soul. That’s generally admitted. 


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I am just material man seeking to suit himself 
to his environment, and a soul is a luxury I can- 
not afford. It brings too much unhappiness with 
it, and material man is not out for unnecessary 
unhappiness. You should have stayed on a 
little longer in the dining-room to-night and heard 
my homily to Everard and Lord Darlington on 
the need for cultivating insensibility to all emo- 
tions. It would have] edified you, particularly 
the sixthly and lastly on the unwisdom of setting 
your affections on anything or anyone in the 
whole wide world other than yourself.” 

“May I have a synopsis?” 

“Oh, certainly, but you must look as if you 
disapproved of the doctrine. Like all religions, 
it only thrives under persecution.” 

“Ill hear first and persecute — if need be — 
afterwards.” 

“Well, it’s just this. I think the subject 
started in a discussion of marriage. It usually 
does — and middle-aged bachelors and widowers 
seem to have nothing else to occupy their minds; 
I just suggested that happiness only comes to the 
man who has strangled all affections and trodden 
every appetite under foot. If you marry, you 
are giving a hostage to misfortune in your wife 
and every one of your children. If you grow 
fond of a cat or a book or a house, or the sight 
of a flower in spring, you are giving hostages to 
misfortune. The cat may die, the book may be 
lost, the house burned down. The flower will 
most certainly fade.” 


176 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“ ‘For the man who cannot take pleasure in 
the sight and scent of a rose because he knows 
it must soon die — there is no hope/ Who said 
that?” 

“I really don’t know, Myra, but it’s perfectly 
true. Unfortunately it’s a matter of tempera- 
ment. No one except the very vain likes to be 
described as hopeless, but if it’s part of your 
temperament to foul the source of every pleasure 
by reflecting it must end some day, well, I think 
it’s better to deaden yourself alike to the sensations 
of pleasure and of pain.” 

Myra looked at him for a moment or two in 
silence. 

“Don’t you find life a little empty, a little 
lonely, Cyril? Do you never feel one of the 
down-trodden affections rising up and calling for 
nourishment?” 

“Sometimes, though to admit it is to confess 
that my religion has not been dutifully followed.” 

“And what happens then?” 

“Then, Myra, I perjure myself and I tell people 
that I am nothing to them and they are nothing 
to me, and by dint of saying it loud enough and 
often enough I hope to make myself believe it. 
Have you any more questions to ask the witness? 
If not, may he leave the box?” 

“Yes, if he feels faint, or if he’s tired of the 
conversation.” 

“Oh, not that, Myra, but I thought you had 
extracted all the information I was capable of 
giving you, and I fancied my soul had been 


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177 


fished out of the camphor-bottle and was now 
balancing itself on a cork with the aid of a half- 
inch pin.” 

“My dear boy, you’ve told me nothing about 
your soul, you’ve only told me what it looks 
like to your own inexperienced eyes.” 

“I told you that I had no soul, or rather that 
it was to all intents and purposes dead, in spite 
of an occasional flicker. You don’t like my 
philosophy of life?” 

“I think you have never known what love is.” 

“Love is forbidden by article one of the creed.” 

“I agree with your aunt that you have never 
known the influence of a strong emotion of any 
kind, but that when you do, you will slough off 
the old skin and show us what is underneath.” 

“Now you are inciting me to bandy prophecies 
with you — one of the vainest forms of time- 
wasting, as I know who spend all my life wasting 
time so as to leave myself no opportunity for 
thinking how ill-contrived a place the world is. 
But what is wrong with the old skin that you 
and Evelyn and everyone are so anxious that I 
should slough it off?” 

“There is nothing wrong so far as I am con- 
cerned. I find you a most entertaining person. 
Whether you will continue long to entertain 
yourself is another question, and that is why 
I should like to see the old skin go. Your phi- 
losophy is a harmless freak at three-and-twenty, 
but in ten years’ time it will be a tragedy.” 

“See volume one of the Earl of Darlington’s 


12 


178 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Aphorisms and Reflections. You will never be 
of the faith, Myra. You are beginning to be 
anxious about my fate, and anxiety about any- 
one's fate is forbidden by article two. I shall 
never feel a moment's disquiet about you." 

Myra gave him an ironical bow. 

“Not because the system forbids you to worry, 
but because you know my philosophy is going 
to guide me to a right judgment in all things, 
as the collect says." 

“Your philosophy is going to guide you to 
Rodney Trelawney, so at least Evelyn tells me. 
Whether that is synonymous with happiness I 
cannot say; but I should prefer to describe it 
as a gamble mitigated by a disposition to say, 
‘I have lost my stake, but the excitement was 
worth it.' That's not my temperament; I can't 
do it, and that is where the difference between 
us lies." 

Myra rose from the stone parapet where she 
had been sitting. 

“Im going to bed, Cyril. Not because the 
conversation is exhausted, but because I see your 
uncle and Lord Darlington coming this way, and 
much as I esteem them both, I dislike (to use 
your language for a moment) having dialogue 
interrupted and converted into ‘confused noises' 
with everyone talking at the same time and gasp- 
ing for breath. Good-night." 

“Good-night, Myra dear. You will have 
ample opportunity to complete the dissection 
later on. Now that you have destroyed the 


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179 


dramatic unity of my appearance in St. James’s 
Square, and now that I have explained in brief 
outline my philosophy of life, there can be no 
objection to our meeting again and extracting 
as much amusement as possible out of each other’s 
conversation.” 

Lord Darlington and Everard Fitzroy came up 
to the place where Cyril was sitting, just as 
Myra Woodbridge disappeared round the angle 
of the house. Cyril’s last words had been audible 
to both of them. 

“I did not know that Miss Woodbridge was a 
friend of yours, Cyril.” 

“ She’s not. I’ve only met her once before, at 
her aunt’s house. She is merely an acquaintance.” 

Everard Fitzroy nodded wisely. 

“Do you habitually greet mere acquaintances 
as ‘Myra dear,’ Cyril?” 

“Invariably, my dear Everard, when they’re 
as beautiful as Myra Woodbridge. Don’t you?” 

Everard turned to his host. 

“And this is the young man who talked to us 
of the wisdom of celibacy and the need for emo- 
tional suppression. I’m not surprised, Cyril, but 
pained — intensely pained.” 

“Wait till the wolf comes, Everard, before you 
cry out. There’s nothing inconsistent in preach- 
ing celibacy and admiring the adorable Myra. 
Beautiful women are a direct incitement to 
bachelorhood. By the laws of this barbarous 
land you mayn’t marry more than one woman 
at a time, and by ancient prejudice if you marry 


180 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


one woman you must be blind to the charms of 
all others and sit sick at heart watching your 
wife grow old and toothless before your eyes. 
If you are a bachelor, you move from one to 
another, feasting your eyes on their beauty. 
When one grows old, you thrust her aside and 
put another younger and fairer in her place. 
Life is perpetual springtime for a bachelor.” 

“ While he’s still young himself, Cyril. Will 
girls like Miss Woodbridge come and talk to you 
when you’re my age?” Everard Fitzroy almost 
allowed the sigh to escape him. “I find their 
inclination grows weaker.” 

“We are back in the old circle.” Cyril got up 
and walked with them towards the open French 
window. “You threaten me with the terrors of 
middle-age, as if you were an ecclesiastic threaten- 
ing me with the torments of hell. Middle-age, 
as I told you before, is not a stage of time, but a 
confession that life, the brain, the power of 
enjoyment are all atrophied. It arises from your 
habit of taking yourself seriously. If I fall into 
the same fatal error I must reconcile myself to 
the punishment, instead of which I propose to 
find myself a book and retire with it to my bed.” 

Myra Woodbridge had wandered through the 
drawing-room and attached herself to the rapidly 
dissolving group at the foot of the stairs. Al- 
though it was only eleven o’clock, a widespread 
decision in favor of bed had made itself felt, and 
she was not sorry to be swept along in the general 
stream and allowed to combat the overpowering 


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181 


heat of the night with vestments of a character 
even more filmy than she had been able to wear 
earlier in the evening. Sleep was out of the ques- 
tion, and she composed herself to listen to the 
gradually dying murmur of voices which for a 
time continued to hum distantly through the 
house. She sat in darkness, but under her door 
stole a ray of light from the open door the other 
side of the passage, showing that Cyril Fitzroy 
at least still felt the need of illumination. In 
the deep silence which presently enveloped the 
house she could hear him turning over the pages 
of a book; twice he knocked the ashes out of 
a pipe, and she caught the sound of a match being 
struck. On the terrace underneath her open 
window a gentle footfall could be heard, now 
growing more distinct and then dying away in 
the distance. She could not distinguish the face 
or figure of the solitary sentinel, but a glowing 
point of light showed that he was smoking as he 
patroled. 

Myra drew her head back from the window 
just in time to see the light from Cyril's door 
disappear and to hear a gentle patter of bare 
feet down the passage. A minute passed and 
then the lights in the library under her room 
were turned on and shone through the windows 
on to the terrace. The sentinel paused in the 
triangle of light and she saw it was Everard Fitz- 
roy. Then a figure airily clad in white silk 
pajamas and a wrist-watch appeared beside him, 
and uncle and nephew sat down on one of the 


182 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


terrace seats. Their voices were subdued in 
deference to the lateness of the hour, but every 
word floated distinctly up to her window as 
they talked. 

“Give me something to smoke, please, Everard, 
and then explain why you are keeping such 
unseasonable hours. The house must be full of 
bad consciences, Fm thinking.” 

“My conscience is all right, my dear boy; but 
why aren’t you in bed?” 

“Oh, I tried bed but only with moderate suc- 
cess, and I’d finished the first volume of this 
new history everyone’s talking about, and it 
seemed a good opportunity for coming down 
to the library and changing it. What wickedness 
keeps you afoot so late?” 

“Nothing, nothing. I have been smoking and 
thinking — that’s all. By the way, I sha’nt see 
you after to-morrow. I leave for Scotland by 
the mail, spend a fortnight in the north, and then 
return to collect a clean handkerchief and a collar 
and go to India.” 

“Lucky man, Everard! I’d give my eyes to 
go to India, only I never get the chance, and here 
are you going a second time. How long is it 
since your first visit?” 

“Oh, twenty years — five-and-twenty, almost. 
I’m half sorry to be going.” 

“Why so?” 

“In brief, and to use your own formula, my 
boy, because I’m a middle-aged failure. I’m 
afraid it will be a very different thing this time. 


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183 


I was about your age when I went before, the 
whole world before me. I’d just made a pot of 
money and fancied myself an eligible bachelor. 
So I was, for that matter, and I was more or less 
feted wherever I went. That’s altered a bit now 
and I’ve got rather left, so that I fear the second 
impression of India may take the gilt off the 
first.” 

Cyril reflected for a short space. 

“Why do you go?” he asked. “A thoroughly 
pleasant memory is too rich and rare a sensation 
to imperil light-heartedly. ” 

“I’m going because I’m a little bit tired of 
England, Cyril. I’ve got the feeling that I’m 
not wanted here any longer. My own contempo- 
raries — my brothers and friends — are all growing 
old. They’ve got their families and their wives 
and they seem to be growing rather apart from 
me. It’s not a pleasant feeling, Cyril, and I 
hope you will never have it; but you will if you 
don’t marry. You will wake up some fine morn- 
ing and find that you are indispensable to no 
on© — as I’ve done. Of course at your age you 
won’t consider that any disadvantage. You find 
it a pleasant sensation to go your own sweet way 
without caring a damn for anybody and without 
anybody caring a damn for you. It makes you 
feel deliciously independent, but I warn you — 
if you’re in the mood for a fresh dose of good 
advice — that you begin to feel lonely and cold 
by the time you’ve turned five-and-forty.” 

“What’s the remedy, Everard?” 


184 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Cyril’s voice sounded to Myra unusually sober. 

“The remedy, my dear boy, is to get married. 
Don’t repeat your views — if they really are your' 
views — about setting not your heart on the 
perishable flowers of the world. It’s better to 
cultivate and cherish a rose and to enjoy its 
scent and beauty even if it ultimately dies, than 
to be content with a wax flower which never 
fades — it is true — but never gives you a moment’s 
gratification in a lifetime. We’ve all got to die, 
Cyril, and my complaint against your philosophy 
is not that it is rottenly unsound, not that it is 
going to make yours an unhappy life, but simply 
that you play the game of life and don’t want to 
obey the rules.” 

“Go on, Everard, I’m listening.” 

“Well, as I’ve unburdened myself so far, you 
may as well hear the end of the chapter. You are 
perfectly right in saying that as you limit your 
sympathies and emotions — dry up the milk of 
human kindness, as the itinerant preachers would 
say — you limit the sense of loss and disappoint- 
ment when an object of your affection comes to 
grief. But I put it to you. Is it worth it? You 
deprive yourself of all the sweets of life, and then 
when you get on in years and see everyone else 
enjoying the fruit which might have been yours, 
you feel like a Nazarite in a winepress. Look 
at my own case and then ask yourself if you’re 
going to be more successful. If it’s a rule of the 
game to get married and stand the racket of a 
family, you can’t expect to have the best of both 


LISTENERS 


185 


worlds by staying a bachelor in your youth and 
still getting in at the finish when the other bach- 
elors have left you behind and mapped out a 
different course for themselves. Never mind the 
mixed metaphors, but do I make myself clear ?' ' 

In the darkness Myra heard a faint sound of 
assent. 

“Well, that's one rule of the game which I've 
tried to break and which you're trying to break. 
Your other fault is more common. As I told you, 
we're all mortal. You're going to die, probably 
before your work — whatever it may be — is fin- 
ished. So am I. Well, do the best you can in 
the interval. If you love your wife and she dies 
before you, well — so much the worse for you, and 
make the most you can of the time you’re together. 
Sometimes the luck will be on your side and you'll 
finish your work in time. Every time it comes 
off it's fair gain. But for heaven's sake don't 
imagine that you're entitled to a special provi- 
dence which is going to insure you against all 
risks free of charge, and don’t have a grievance 
when death or disaster comes and lays hands on 
your most cherished possessions.” 

Cyril allowed an interval to follow on his uncle's 
outburst before replying, and when he broke 
silence his voice had lost its customary bantering 
tone. 

“You've shattered an idol, Everard; you've 
shown me the feet of clay. Do you know, when 
people talked about the melancholy which comes 
over bachelors in middle life, I always pointed 
to you as a glorious exception.” 


186 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Point to me, my boy, as an example — a 
hideous example — of the universal rule, and be 
warned by me. Get married before it is too 
late — get married at once.” 

“Not so easy to do in a hurry. I’m not con- 
scious of being exactly run after.”’ 

“Why don’t you marry Miss Woodbridge?” 

The position of Myra as involuntary eaves- 
dropper had become suddenly uncomfortable. 
She could not help hearing Cyril’s reply, what- 
ever it might be; she could not break up the 
seance without revealing to Mr. Fitzroy that his 
confidences had reached unexpected ears; there 
was nothing for it but to sit silent while she 
became the current topic of conversation between 
the two men. Cyril did not answer his uncle’s 
question for a moment or two, and then broke 
out into a long low laugh. 

“My dear Everard, for as many reasons as 
you have hairs on your head. Reason number 
one, because she’s already bespoke. Rodney 
Trelawney has been worshipping at her shrine 
for a length of time which for Rodney is unparal- 
leled. She is a little — what’s the word? — distant 
with him at present, so it was the chance of a 
lifetime for me to come in and make the running 
hot for him. But I don’t seriously propose to 
spoil sport, and my task as runner-up ends in a 
few hours’ time. Can you see to read a letter? 
No? well, it will save me the trouble of fetching 
it, but anyway I heard last night from my aunt, 
your excellent sister-in-law Evelyn. She is sum- 


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187 


moning me back to London on an entirely frivolous 
excuse. Now, I don’t pretend to see farther 
through a brick wall than most people, but I’m 
prepared to bet any money that she has heard 
Myra and I are staying under the same roof, and 
she proposes to get rid of my pernicious influence. 
Rodney is as the apple of Evelyn’s eye, and she 
is simply wrapped up in the idea of getting him 
married to Myra. Hence I return to town by 
the 10.40, deplored by all the house-party. Inci- 
dentally the car which takes me to the station 
fetches Rodney out. So much I gleaned from 
Darlington last night. There’s my first reason.” 

“It’s no reason at all, Cyril. You must find 
something better than that. Rodney has not 
got a vested interest in Miss Woodbridge, and 
you’ve a perfectly equal right to try your luck 
with her if you’re so disposed.” 

“If I’m so disposed; that’s just it, Everard, 
I’m not. I regard the Rodney-Myra combination 
as almost ideal. Rodney’s a dear, and he simply 
adores her; and I’m sure she returns it to a cer- 
tain extent. But the Cyril-Myra combination is 
unthinkable.” 

“Why so?” 

“Because I’ve no — no depth of feeling for her. 
She’s a sweet, pretty girl and I love talking to 
her and dancing with her and so forth; but you 
can’t marry on that, and I seriously don’t believe 
I would cross the street on her behalf if it caused 
me the slightest inconvenience. She leaves me 
quite cold.” 


188 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Can you name any woman you would cross 
the street for, or anyone who doesn’t leave you 
cold?” 

“At the moment, no.” 

“Then you start with a clean slate and I 
suggest that you should devote yourself to 
winning the young affections of Miss Wood- 
bridge.” 

“Why Miss Woodbridge in particular?” 

“My dear boy, because she’s a charming girl 
and I think she likes you.” 

I “She’ll soon be cured of that. Why, she knows 
nothing about me. We’ve just met here and 
there and amused ourselves with a little con- 
versational sparring, but she’ll want to know me 
better before marriage comes on the tapis, and 
the better she knows me the less willing she will 
be to face the prospect.” 

Cyril laughed rather bitterly and got up from 
the seat as though the subject had been exhausted. 
His uncle fired a parting shot. 

“Don’t grow vain about your bad qualities, but 
follow my advice in general and in this particular 
instance.” 

Cyril paused before stepping through the 
library window. 

“Don’t spoil the conversion, Everard, by try- 
ing to make it too sudden or too complete. I’m 
taking your general advice quite seriously, but 
you’ve misfired in the particular instance. She 
shall have every opportunity of studying my 
uniformly lovable nature, and I will do my best 


LISTENERS 


189 


to get into the receptive state of humility proper 
to those about to enter into holy wedlock, but 
I'm not prepared to make any bets on my pros- 
pects of success." 


CHAPTER XI 


A PRETTY EXAMPLE OF SELF-DENIAL 
“ Tardet ingenuos pudor.” — Catullus. 

A T half-past ten the same morning Cyril — 
Fitzroy drove up to the station in one 
L of Lord Darlington’s cars. He was met 
by an old friend in the person of the 
station master. 

“Good morning, Mr. Fitzroy, sir. Are you 
going by the 10.40 to London?” 

“That’s the idea, Mr. Wilson.” 

“Then I’m afraid you may be a bit late getting 
under way, sir. There’s been a mess-up two 
miles down the line, goods engine left the rails, 
and the up-traffic is a bit delayed. I hope it’s 
nothing urgent taking you to town, sir, nothing 
that won’t wait?” 

“The only essential part of my journey is 
already accomplished, Mr. Wilson. It is the 
terminus a quo that matters, not the terminus 
ad quern . I can’t put it more clearly than that 
because I am not quite sure myself why I am 
returning. Is the down-express signaled yet?” 
“Just coming round the bend now, sir.” 

“Then I think I’ll cross over and meet it. 
I’m expecting a friend.” 

( 190 ) 


EXAMPLE OF SELF-DENIAL 191 

He ran over the bridge into the arms of Rodney 
Trelawney, who was engaged in entrusting an 
immaculate suit-case to the care of a porter. 

“ Hallo, Cyril, I never expected to see you 
here!” 

“My dear Rodney, my surprise entrances and 
exits add a charm and romance to the lives of 
all my friends, without exception. This is one 
of your lucky days: not only have you met me, 
but you’re going to stay and talk to me till my 
train comes in.” 

“ Where are you off to?” 

“ Lunnen-town, on a matter of the greatest 
unimportance. No, I haven’t been thrown out 
by the Anstruther household with three minutes 
grace to get myself and belongings out of the park 
before the bloodhounds are unleashed. They 
seemed quite sorry to lose me.” 

“ They are always so polite. But who is there?” 

“Oh, a host of people. I have left my uncle, 
the eupeptic Everard, to represent the family in 
my absence. I fancy he leaves later in the day. 
Talking of which, when did you last dine with 
Evelyn?” 

“The night before last. Why?” 

“Oh, I knew she must have seen you lately, 
and I rather fancied it was the night before last. 
That was when she wrote asking me to come to 
town immediately.” 

“On a matter of the gravest unimportance?” 

“Exactly, though I have business of my own 
as well. I’m going to be married.” 


192 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“ Anyone in particular?” 

“No. I am just Dr. Syntax in Search of a 
Wife. Youth, beauty, and wealth naturally pre- 
ferred, but not indispensable. Everard gives it 
as his mature opinion that celibacy is exploded, 
so there’s just nothing more to be said — except 
that if this is the case with the green tree, it’s 
high time you were settling down.” 

Rodney’s face grew serious. 

“There doesn’t seem to be any great rush for 
me at present.” 

“Oh, business will brighten up after lunch, 
the house is filled with eligible young women. 
If you want money, you’ll find a Miss Waldteufel 
— German and Hebraistic extraction, simply stiff 
with it. If you like red hair, there’s a Miss — 
no, I find on reflection that I do not allow myself 
to know red-headed people by name, but she’s 
the real thing, like the sun setting over the Sierra 
Nevada. If you want beauty and all the virtues 
and graces, you’ll find the adorable Miss Wood- 
bridge.” 

“Myra Woodbridge? Lady Delaunay’s niece?” 

“The same.” 

Without a word Rodney walked out of the 
station and spoke for a few moments to Lord 
Darlington’s chauffeur. It was impossible to 
hear what was said, but the man smiled and a 
coin changed hands. Then the engine was started 
and to Cyril’s amazement the car drove away. 
Rodney strolled back as though nothing had 
happened. 


EXAMPLE OF SELF-DENIAL 193 

“What’s the time of your train, Cyril?” 

“Ten-forty, but liable to be late owing to an 
accident down the line. What have you done 
to the car?” 

“I’ve bribed the man to say I never came 
here, and when I get to town I shall wire to say 
I am unavoidably detained. I depend on you, 
Cyril, not to give me away.” 

“But, my dear Rodney, what’s the matter with 
you?” 

Rodney thought for a moment. 

“Look here. This is told you seriously and in 
confidence. Consequently I don’t want you to 
exercise your humor at my expense or make a 
good story out of this morning’s meeting. I 
recognize that I am completely in your hands 
if you choose to do so, but I ask it as a favor.” 

Cyril nodded. 

“I have particular reasons for not wanting to 
meet Miss Woodbridge at present. Later on it 
may be different, but if I had known she was 
to be here, I’d never have accepted Darlington’s 
invitation.” 

Cyril burst out laughing. 

“My dear Rodney, this is the best thing I’ve 
heard for months. I’m not laughing at you, I’m 
laughing at us both, and at Myra Woodbridge 
most of all.” 

“I don’t see the joke.” 

“My dear boy, it’s really rich. You remember 
Lady Delaunay’s ball?” 

“Do I not?” 


13 


194 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Well, you turned up late and I amused myself 
by philandering with the fair Myra. I didn’t 
want to spoil the market for you, so I took a 
self-denying oath not to see her again if I could 
possibly avoid it. Do you know, Rodney, for 
one whole blessed suffocating week of the season 
I never went out for fear of meeting her? She’s 
far too attractive to be allowed out alone, bring- 
ing desolation to the hearth of confirmed bachelors, 
so I stayed out of temptation’s way. Then came 
this party of Darlington’s and I promised to come 
along before I knew she was to be of the party 
and I fairly ran into it. Thus far history; now 
for speculation. Evelyn knew Myra was staying 
here, but she didn’t know I was here too till you 
told her — as I suppose you must have?” 

Rodney nodded. 

“I thought so. Well, she seized pen and paper 
and ordered my return to town immediately, if 
not sooner, in order to leave the field clear for 
you. Hence my appearance at this unseemly 
hour. But I find you engaged in the same 
ignominious retreat. As soon as I tell you Myra 
is here, you decide to take the first train back to 
town. Are you leaving the field clear for a third 
party, and if so, who is he?” 

Rodney did not appear to be amused. 

“My dear Cyril, this is rather a private matter, 
which I cannot discuss at the moment. You 
must be content with my saying that I do not 
want to meet her at present.” 

A long silence followed, duiing which Cyril 
scrutinized his companion’s face narrowly. 


EXAMPLE OF SELF-DENIAL 195 


“Rodney, are you by any chance leaving the 
field clear for me f I don't press for an answer, 
but if you are, or if you fancy that she's got any 
preference for me over you, I'll put your mind 
at rest by saying I’m not for competition. I sup- 
pose I am bound to run up against Myra now 
and again — it would look rather strange if I 
didn't — but I can promise you that I won't seek 
her out, and I can assure you that every oppor- 
tunity she has of getting to know me better is 
an opportunity for getting to like you better." 

“Thanks for the offer, but it seems to leave us 
where we were before, doesn’t it?" 

“Certainly not. You've just got to walk up 
to the house and say you've come by a later 
train. Choose a probable one, but for heaven's 
sake don't run away from her. At present we're 
like two people trying to get into a room and each 
refusing with a wealth of politeness to precede the 
other. Meanwhile Myra remains in splendid 
isolation. I resign all claims; go in and win." 

“My dear boy, you don't understand a delicate 
hint when you get one. If you must know, I’ve 
already tried and failed. Now, do you want me 
to go up to the house?" 

Cyril whistled long and reflectively. 

“I had no idea it had gone as far as that. I 
honestly don't know what answer to give." 

“Here's the answer I propose to take." Rod- 
ney picked up his suit-case as the London train 
steamed into the station. “Smoker, I suppose. 
Cyril? And if you can think of any more helpful 


196 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


advice between here and London, you may wake 
me up to receive it.” 

He flung his suite-case savagely into a corner 
seat and clambered after Cyril into the carriage. 


CHAPTER XII 


ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION AND ITS FATE 

“I, who have love — and no more, 

Give you but love of you, sweet.” — S winburne. 

A MONTH had elapsed since he left Lord 
Darlington’s week-end party and Cyril 
Fitzroy sat at his bureau in the Temple, 
writing rapidly. A pile of letters in front 
of him testified to his previous exertions, but the 
composition of the present one appeared to offer 
difficulties, and several pauses interrupted his 
usually fluent pen before the end was reached and 
the last stamp affixed. He rose rather wearily 
from his chair and looked out of the open window 
over the muddy waters of the river, watching the 
light of the afternoon sun playing on the gently 
moving waves. Suddenly the bell of his tele- 
phone rang out and he stepped over to the receiver. 
“Hallo! yes, that’s me, Cyril Fitzroy. Oh, it’s 
you, Myra. Yes, I shall be here till dinner-time. 
I’ve just written you a long letter, but if you’re 
coming here I’ll save the stamp. Where are you? 
Oh, Ladies’ Union Club. All right. I’ll expect 
you in ten minutes’ time.” 

He replaced the receiver and settled himself 
in an armchair, slowly filling a pipe the while. 
( 197 ) 


198 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


The ten minutes had hardly passed when he 
heard a step on the stair and Myra floated into 
the room, carrying a large bouquet of roses, 
which she placed in a bowl on his writing table. 

“Don’t forget to give them fresh water,” she 
said, “they’re my peace-offering for disturbing 
you when you ought to be taking your pre-prandial 
nap. I had to come. The Gilfillans have invited 
me to go to Scotland with them and I’ve prom- 
ised to make you throw over all your previous 
engagements and come too. Be sweet and say 
you will or I shall never be able to face Amy 
Gilfillan again.” 

“ I can’t, Myra. I’m sorry, but I’m going away. 
I had just written to say good-bye when you 
rang me up. It’s rather sudden, but Stretton 
asked me this morning to go with him to South 
Africa as private secretary, or something of the 
kind, and I sail in a week’s time.” 

“You are going to South Africa — to be useful? 
Oh, Cyril, how inartistic and how unlike you! 
What’s the attraction?” 

“None that I know of.” He looked lovingly 
round his rooms. “These quarters have served 
me many a long day and I have no sort of wish 
to leave them.” 

“Then why are you going?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

“Constant dripping will wear away any stone. 
I dined with Darlington last night.” 

“And what did he talk about?” 

“Zoology and biology and industrial unrest. 


ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION 199 


The social parasite is exploded. The working- 
classes of this country have been reading books 
which they don’t understand and drawing infer- 
ences which won’t hold water; but they have 
convinced themselves that in the animal king- 
dom the individual beasts of a tribe are broadly 
equal and they want to know why the individual 
young of the human tribe are not equal too. 
They say that the young of the human tribe 
would be equal but for the unequal distribution 
of this world’s good things. As it is, the rich 
child has its body nourished with good milk and 
wrapped in warm clothing; its brain is fed and 
trained; body and mind are subjected to no 
exertions which they are incapable of supporting, 
with the result that a few generations of this 
scientific breeding and rearing produces a superior 
being like myself. Look at the other side of the 
picture, and you see under-nourished parents living 
in insanitary houses and raising far more children 
than they can feed. Continence being unintel- 
ligible to them, they have to struggle with these 
ever-increasing families, giving them insufficient 
food and clothing, until such time as they are 
old enough to go out and earn money and start 
a fresh generation on the same lines. The result 
is that a few centuries of under-nourishment and 
under-education produce the average working- 
man as we know him.” 

“ There is nothing very new in all this.” 

“ Quite right. I could have told it to our friend 
the working-man many years ago, but I regarded 


200 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


it as dangerous knowledge for him to possess. 
Dives should never explain to Lazarus how he 
may come to live in purple and fine linen and fare 
sumptuously every day. Unhappily, the phi- 
lanthropists of the nineteenth century, the Dar- 
lingtons of another generation, sold the pass, or 
rather gave it away for nothing but the pleasure 
of gratifying an obese conscience.” 

“And the Cyril Fitzroys of this generation have 
to suffer. But what has this to do with Lord 
Stretton and South Africa?” 

“Cyril Fitzroy in South Africa represents the 
last stand of the Old Guard. Cyril is going to 
the working-man, and is going to tell him (tongue 
in cheek) that his deductions from zoology are 
impeccable, that there is no reason beyond the 
present unequal distribution of wealth why 
Tommy Smith the dustman’s boy should not 
live in Temple Gardens while Cyril Fitzroy col- 
lects Tommy Smith’s waste-paper and disused 
sardine-tins. ‘But,’ I shall say, ‘these things 
take time. It will take a year or two to give 
Tommy my brain and my education, and mean- 
while the brain-work of the world must go on.’ 
In the fulness of time I shall persuade our friend 
that there is such a thing as brain-work, and that 
Tommy’s gray matter is not so plentiful as the 
celestial Cyril Fitzroy’s. Our friend will then 
descend to personalities and ask what particular 
form of brainwork I am doing to justify the good 
milk, warm clothes, comfortable houses, and expen- 
sive education which I have received; what ser- 


ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION 201 


vice to the community I can show for the very 
tolerable position I occupy and the inadequate 
but none the less substantial means which I 
enjoy.” 

* 'And how will you answer our friend?” 

“I shall say, ‘At the moment, nothing; but in 
a week's time I sail for South Africa.' Hence my 
refusal, Myra, to avail myself of Mrs. Gilfillan's 
hospitality. Has she changed her cook yet?” 

“Yes. Does that weigh with you?” 

“Only in a disinterested manner. I was think- 
ing of you and the other guests. I have no doubt 
even her late cook would appear tolerable to me 
in comparison with what I shall have to endure 
in South Africa.” 

Myra leaned back in her chair and surveyed 
him with an amused smile. 

“Are you really going, Cyril?” 

“My dear, should I have inflicted this hand- 
book of sociology on you otherwise? I am going 
in a week's time: six days, to be accurate.” 

“Accuracy above all things. Why are you 
going?” 

“Myra, you've slept through the sermon. 
I am going because I have been found out; the 
position of a parasite growth on a highly civilized 
social organism is no longer tenable. I go to 
justify myself in the eyes of our friend the working- 
man, who thinks — quite rightly — that I get a 
good deal from society and give nothing in return.” 

“ ‘Apres vous le deluge.' It will last your 
time, my friend. Now tell me the real reason.” 


202 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“One should never tell one’s real reason any 
more than one should tell one’s real age.” 

“True. One’s age is what one appears to be: 
a specious and probable computation of time, if 
you want long words. You must apply the same 
standard to your reason.” 

“But my reason was specious, probable, and 
true. Besides, you wouldn’t like to hear the 
real reason.” 

“I insist. My dear boy, I don’t want you to 
bury yourself in South Africa, but if you go I 
must have the consolation of knowing why.” 

“I am running away from danger, Myra, as I 
always do.” 

Cyril was speaking more seriously now. 

“Is the danger personal or material? Have 
you forged a check or compromised a reputation, 
or what?” 

“It’s personal, Myra. It’s a woman. I don’t 
think her reputation is compromised as yet, but 
I want to get out of the way before she and I 
drift on to the point of committing a great folly. 
A great tragedy,” he added. 

“And is the woman anyone I know? Myself, 
for example?” 

“Thou hast said.” 

“Then if it’s only me the matter’s easily set- 
tled. You say my reputation is not yet com- 
promised, so no harm’s done, and I will try to 
walk circumspectly and keep it uncompromised 
for the future. If you are nervous about your 
own I will be equally careful and not persecute 


ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION 203 


you. Next week I go down to Devonshire, then 
to Scotland, where we shall be together for a 
week at most, and then not back to town till 
November. Three whole blessed months, Cyril, 
you’ll have a perfect rest, and needn’t go to South 
Africa to escape me. Now be a good, dear boy 
and say you’ll oblige Amy Gilfillan.” She was 
moving towards the door as she spoke and Cyril 
could not help admiring the way in which her 
clinging gray dress and pale face, with its beautiful 
dark eyes, showed up against the oak book-cases 
behind her in the last lingering rays of the July 
sun. She was smiling provocatively, and it 
seemed to Cyril that he must speak now or for- 
ever hold his peace. 

“Myra, don’t go for a moment. Sit down, 
please, and hear what I’ve got to say. I’d rather 
leave it unsaid, but we’ve got to a point where 
in fairness to us both I must say it plainly and 
brutally.” There was a note of distress in his 
voice which surprised her, and she went back to 
her chair and sat down, resting her head on her 
hand and looking intently and perplexedly at this 
new Cyril who had gone so pale and struggled 
with so much difficulty to get his words out. 

“What’s the matter, Cyril dear?” she asked 
gently. “You’re worried about something. Tell 
me what it is and see if I can help you.” 

“I am afraid it may hurt you, Myra, but 
I only want you to hear me to the finish and 
believe I am too fond of you to speak like this 
if it were not to save us from the folly and the 


204 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


tragedy I’ve spoken of. I told you I was going 
to South Africa, dear, and I said I was going to 
avoid you. It doesn’t sound as polite as I could 
wish, but it has the merit of being true. We’ve 
seen too much of each other, Myra. We’ve 
danced together the evening through for the best 
part of the season, and we’ve been everywhere 
together too much for my peace of mind.” He 
paused and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. 
“Where’s it going to end, dear? Of course your 
reputation is unharmed, even though well-disposed 
friends are talking and wondering, and if you 
weren’t different from other people I wouldn’t 
allow you to visit me in bachelor chambers with- 
out a chaperon. As it is, my affectionate uncle 
Everard called on me before he sailed for India 
to say I ought to bring things to an end one way 
or another, and Rodney lectured me two nights 
ago on the same topic. Well, so far no harm is 
done; we’ve both expressed ourselves freely and 
pointedly on the stupidity of public opinion, but 
we’re at the parting of the ways. One road leads 
me to South Africa, the other brings us both to 
the brink of a tragedy.” 

Cyril paused and let his eyes wander from 
Myra’s face to the window and back again. She 
did not yet see what was in his mind to say and 
could not help him. 

“What is the tragedy, Cyril?” she asked. 
“What is the folly, and why is it driving you 
away?” 

“The folly, Myra dear, is this, that I have 


ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION 205 


allowed myself to grow too fond of you. You 
are getting to mean too much to me and though 
I’ve tried more than once to avoid meeting you, 
as long as we are in the same country it will be 
impossible, and I am not sure that I could be 
answerable for my actions.” 

“You mean that you might ask me to marry 
you? That would be a distressing betise for you 
to commit.” She spoke with a touch of irony in 
her voice. “And presumably I am to be too 
much overcome by surprise or gratitude to do 
anything but whisper a timid ‘ Yes.’ That is the 
tragedy you wish to avoid? I think you are well 
advised in running away.” 

“Myra, don’t make things unnecessarily hard 
for me by putting them in that way, don’t pre- 
tend we’re strangers; don’t pretend it’s outside 
the bounds of possibility that I should ask you 
to marry me and that you should accept me, but 
God help the girl I marry, and it’s to save her 
that I’m speaking like this.” 

His voice had grown bitter in those last words 
as though he knew the reproof to which he was 
exposing himself and sought to discount it in 
advance. Myra did not reply for a while, and he 
looked up to receive her answer, but before speak- 
ing she crossed over and sat on the arm of his 
chair. 

“I think you’re right, Cyril,” she said. “If I 
were you I think I should be doing the same 
thing. Yes, undoubtedly, if I were you” The 
emphasis of the repetition made him look up into 
her face. 


206 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 

v 

“Meaning by that, Myra?” he asked. 

“Meaning by that, that if I were in your place, 
only considering myself and constructing a little 
world in which everybody’s happiness were sub- 
jected to my own momentary whim, I should act 
as you are doing. If I were in your place and 
were someone quite different from you — Myra 
Woodbridge, for instance — I might look at it 
from another point of view, the point of view which 
is present to my mind now. Before I met you, 
Rodney Trelawney asked me to be his wife, and 
I told him to wait twenty-four hours while I 
thought it over. In the interval I met you. 
I’m not going to flatter you, Cyril dear, and say 
that I was fascinated all in a moment or anything 
of that kind, but you were quite different from 
any man I had met before, and I was attracted 
to you by contrast. You were always extraor- 
dinarily cold-blooded, Cyril, unattracted and 
self-possessed. You are still, and though you told 
me at Anstruther that it was all a pose, you 
have never become any nearer, never any less 
detached. I suppose one gets tired of being 
languished at, or perhaps one is only piqued by 
indifference. Why otherwise do men go on wor- 
shipping women who only notice them in order 
to trample them underfoot? Anyway, whether 
it was relief from adoration or a challenge to 
excite it, I accepted your indifference as a chal- 
lenge and made up my mind to overcome it.” 
She laid her hand on his head and made him turn 
to look at her. “And I have overcome it, Cyril. 


ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION 207 


You said as much a moment ago, and though 
I haven’t married Rodney, and you may say 
‘Time enough yet/ and ‘No harm done/ the 
harm is done, and your going to South Africa 
comes too late in the day to be of much assistance 
to me.” 

There was a catch in her voice between laughter 
and tears as she ended. Her eyes were very 
bright and the violets in her bosom were trem- 
bling with the quickness of her breathing. In 
that moment she was living again the happy 
hours of that glorious season, lingering lovingly 
over each moment of time as it brought her a 
stage nearer to the present. Cyril trembled at 
her touch and hardly dared look up to the happy 
face above him. The sweet fragrance of the 
violets seemed to symbolize a spell which was 
stealing over him and numbing the hard resolu- 
tion he had so painfully formed. His eyes under 
their long dark lashes wore an expression of trouble 
as he tore himself from the chair and stumbled 
to the window as though his reason were being 
drugged with the scent of the violets. 

“Myra, darling,” he said, “it won’t do. Other 
people may marry and give in marriage, but I’m 
different from them. I don’t want a wife, and 
other people do. I’m best and happiest alone. 
Hugo will marry because he’s got all the instincts 
of a father; and Rodney will marry because he’s 
incomplete and lonely without it; and Johnny 
will marry because he’s like Beaudelaire, in search 
of a ‘new thrill/ and marriage is an experience he 


208 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


must taste on his way. Mortimer will marry: 
he wants sympathy and inspiration. But none 
of these things apply to me. Women play no 
part in my life beyond the hour’s pleasure they 
give me when I have something pretty to look 
at and something bright and clever to talk to. 
You’ve known me three months, Myra, but I’ve 
known myself three-and-twenty years, and that’s 
why I cannot marry and why you’ll thank me for 
it later on. Before a man marries he must feel 
that his wife is indispensable to him and that he 
could not go on living without her. I don’t feel 
that. I’ve always boasted of not being dependent 
on anyone for my happiness and I’ve grown to 
believe it. What the future may bring I’m not 
fool enough to prophesy, but my present feeling 
is that I was cut out for a lonely and selfish fife 
and that not even you are an essential part of my 
happiness. If we married we should be in the 
seventh heaven for a time. It would be a pleasure 
for me to wait on you and inconvenience myself 
for you. But when the novelty wore off. . . . 

You know it does wear off, Myra, and most mar- 
ried people have an uncomfortable time of it 
when they’ve ceased to be bride and bridegroom 
and not learned to be husband and wife. The 
man’s in the wrong. He sets a higher standard 
of devotion than he’s able to keep up, and the 
first pain his wife suffers is when he begins to 
fall below it. It would be worse than usual in 
my case. I warn you that I couldn’t answer for 
constancy of affection or even common politeness; 


ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION 209 


a day would likely come when I began to look on 
you as an interloper who had disturbed the orderly 
selfishness of my life. Myra, unless you make 
sacrifices to people you can’t love them, and I’ve 
always been too selfish to sacrifice myself, with 
the result that, barring a near relation or two, 
there’s not a soul in the world who might not die 
unwept and unsung as far as I’m concerned. I’ve 
not got a wide sympathy and I’ve not got any 
strong emotions. I’m the only person in the 
world I really care for, and I measure everything 
by the rule of my own convenience. Not a pleas- 
ant character, is it, Myra? but I’d better tell you 
now than let you marry me and discover it in 
an experience of neglect. It’s been growing for 
twenty-three years, and you can’t change that 
sort of thing in a moment. If ever you hear of 
me risking my life or my reputation or my house- 
hold gods for the sake of a friend, you will know 
I’ve changed my skin and may make a successful 
thing of marriage. At present we’re dealing with 
nothing but a temporary infatuation, and till 
the new day dawns, Myra darling, I’ll ask you 
to comfort yourself with the reflection that even 
in the infatuation there was too much real affec- 
tion to risk rubbing the bloom off you and leaving 
you to perish for want of care.” 

“The encrusted habits of twenty-three! They 
are not incurable, Cyril!” 

“They are deep-seated and hard to shift. I 
admire your courage and optimism if you think 
you will have an easy job with them. It’s navvy’s 


14 


210 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


work, and I won’t risk your little hands on the 
task.” 

“Now you’re getting proud of your selfishness, 
Cyril, though I’m not sure that that isn’t better 
than being morbid and penitent about it as you 
were a few minutes ago. Just tell me this: Do 
you really care for me at all at the present time?” 

“So well that I’m afraid of deceiving myself 
into believing that it would last forever.” 

“Then if you care for me now, why not leave 
the future in my hands? Do you know, Cyril, 
half the wives in this world marry their husbands 
first and make them fall in love with them after- 
wards. Why won’t you let me take my chance 
of winning your affection and keeping it? I don’t 
want burnt-offerings and sacrifices, I only want 
the chance of making you love me and showing 
you in time that I am an indispensable part of 
your life.” 

“It’s not good enough, Myra. I’m one of an 
evil generation that asks a sign, and one of those 
to whom no sign has been given. I don’t think 
you know me as well as I know myself, and until 
I see evidence of a state of grace coming over me, 
I can’t rely on your ability to make me change 
my skin.” 

She rose from the arm of the chair where she 
had been sitting and crossed to the window-seat 
where Cyril was standing. 

“How many of the men you know have shown 
the sign, Cyril? Run through the husbands of 
your acquaintance and tell me how many of 


ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION 211 


them have sacrificed themselves for their wives, 
or their friends, or for humanity at large. Take 
the soldiers, the doctors, the statesmen, the law- 
yers, the philanthropists, and tell me how many 
of them are working and risking their lives for 
others, and how many are like Cyril Fitzroy, just 
thinking of themselves. The doctor’s skill and 
patience and gentleness, his bedside manner, his 
willingness to face infection, all these have their 
price, they are assets in his balance sheet, things 
to be bought and sold. The soldier is fighting 
for glory, his own glory and a niche in the Temple 
of Fame. And even the philanthropist is a wolf 
in sheep’s clothing, selling his charity to purchase 
consolation for an obese conscience.” She sur- 
veyed him with an amused smile. “You have 
spent too much time in my company demolishing 
other people’s claims to righteousness for me to 
attach any very great importance to sacrifices. 
I have pleasure in restoring to you certain pieces 
of bread which you have cast from time to time 
on the waters.” 

“You are an apt pupil, Myra, but quoting 
Scripture in support of your ends will not turn 
me from the first unselfish resolution I have ever 
made. If you knew me better you would not 
talk so lightly about taking the risk. I shall 
sail with Stretton on Friday.” 

“And what happens to Lady Violet for the next 
two years, or whatever time you’re going to be 
away? Who will be her guardian?” It was a 
random shot, but at that moment it seemed to 


212 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Myra the only one that remained to her. She 
had wooed him away from his dejection and self- 
analysis by treating his apologies with banter, 
but he had now hardened himself again, and she 
was at a loss how to deal with his newly-born 
seriousness and resolution. 

“We’ll hope Darlington doesn’t get the ap- 
pointment. He told me last night nothing had 
yet been decided.” 

“But he expects it. He told me so at lunch 
to-day.” 

“Then — he must make what arrangements he 
can.” 

“And in the meantime you leave England for 
a couple of years. What then?” 

“Then I shall probably come back and pick 
up the threads of the old life. You will have 
forgotten this summer and will be married to 
someone who deserves you better.' We shall no 
longer be a danger to each other. And I shall 
grow like the rest of the old bachelors you see at 
the club, half my time thinking what I’ve eaten 
and the other half sketching out what I’m going 
to eat. Also, I shall tell all the young members 
that they ought to marry. That is the preroga- 
tive of old club bachelors. Experto crede — I have 
been a junior member.” 

“There is an alternative, Cyril.” 

“What is it?” 

“You say you won’t spoil my life by marrying 
me before you are in a state of grace, and that 
you haven’t sufficient confidence in yourself to 


ANOTHER GOOD RESOLUTION 213 


stay in England for fear of the infatuation proving 
too strong for you. I am not of the generation 
that asks a sign, but if the sign be wanted I will 
wait two years for it to appear. You would be 
back in England in two years’ time anyway, and 
I can keep the infatuation in check by refusing 
to marry you till then. If by that time you have 
proved to your own satisfaction that you are 
capable of sacrificing yourself and changing your 
skin, well, we’re only the losers by two years. 
And if the skin doesn’t change, well, you will 
have outgrown the infatuation, Cyril, and will be 
grateful to me for solving the problem in a way 
that keeps you an unembarrassed bachelor with- 
out having to take refuge outside the four-mile 
radius.” 

Before he had time to answer, a knock sounded 
at the door and one of Lord Darlington’s footmen 
entered with a note. Cyril read it and handed 
it to Myra. 

“My Dear Cyril” (it ran): 

“I have been privately informed this afternoon 
that I am to go to India. As you know, I cannot 
take Violet with me at her age and in the present 
state of unrest. A true word is often spoken in 
jest, and I told you I should call on you to act 
as her guardian . I now ask you seriously to under- 
take this. I propose setting up a dual control; 
Enid Sutherland has promised to act, and she 
will live with Violet. I want a man who will 
look after the finances of the trust, someone who 


214 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


is personally acceptable to the child, likely to 
agree with Enid and able to advise her. Enid 
is a wise little woman, but she is still very young, 
and you know I have no relations on whom I 
could rely for one moment. I won’t try to con- 
ceal from you that the trust is likely to be trouble- 
some, as Violet has now arrived at the most 
critical period in her education. I shall, of course, 
make suitable provision for all three of you, but 
if you won’t do it for Violet you won’t do it for 
me or for any monetary consideration. If you 
are prepared to act, send word by messenger that 
you will call on me to-night before 11.30. If you 
won’t act, don’t bother to call. 

“ Yours, 

“ Darlington.” 

“Intensely business-like, Cyril, not a word 
wasted.” 

“Is there any answer, sir?” asked the messenger. 

Cyril looked at Myra before replying. The 
glance was returned without a quaver. There 
was no guidance there. 

“Tell Lord Darlington,” he said, “that I am 
honored by his request, and will call on him 
to-night at eleven. That’s all. Good-night.” 

The door closed and Cyril walked thoughtfully 
to the bureau, selected a letter out of the pile, 
drew it from its envelope and destroyed it. 

“My knowledge of engagement rings is limited, 
Myra,” he remarked; “durability would seem 
to be advisable, if one slender band of gold is 
to do duty for two long years.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


RESPONSIBILITIES OF OFFICE 

“Otium divos rogat in patenti 
Prensus iEgaeo.” — Horace. 

A FORTNIGHT after the evening on which 
Cyril had called on Lord Darlington to 
arrange the particulars of his trusteeship, 
Evelyn Fitzroy was sitting at breakfast in 
a cottage on the Surrey border of Hampshire. It 
was her temporary home while the house which her 
husband was building for her awaited completion. 
Through the open windows a rare view opened up 
to her: first, a frame of old English flowers, sweet- 
peas, larkspurs, snapdragons, hollyhocks, and 
Canterbury bells, swaying and spreading their 
sweetness with every breath of the warm gentle 
breeze of early morning; then a stretch of lux- 
uriant summer grass falling away to meet the 
silver ribbon of water which rippled idly along the 
bottom of the valley. Her eyes wandered along 
the course of the stream to the point where it 
broke into three parts, running through the water- 
garden which was her peculiar pride and delight, 
and finally reuniting in a small lake at the extreme 
west end of the valley. Then as she raised her 
eyes from the cool mirror surface of the lake to 
( 215 ) 


216 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


the rose-clad slopes which led terrace by terrace 
to the still unfinished house, she saw the figure 
of her husband descending the opposite side of 
the valley and crossing the causeway of her water- 
garden towards the cottage. In two minutes he 
had climbed the near side of the valley and had 
entered the cottage. 

“Have the letters come yet?” he asked as he 
sat down. 

“Yes, dear, but I don’t think yours look very 
interesting. Here is a long and characteristic 
effusion from Cyril. You’d better read that 
first. He is motoring down to-day and expects 
to arrive shortly after lunch. 

Lionel Fitzroy took the letter and began read- 
ing it. It was characteristic of his nephew. 

“My Dear Evelyn” (it opened): 

“If you wire in sufficient time you will be 
spared everything. Otherwise a carload of 
assorted men and maidens will descend on you 
after lunch to-day and disturb the well-earned 
repose which you hoped to find at Wateracre. 
Lunch will be taken on board by the way to 
diminish your embarrassment in some small 
degree, but we shall undoubtedly stay to tea, and 
though I am always moderate at that meal, 
I cannot answer for my party. 

“Why am I doing this thing? For a dozen 
different reasons: primarily because I want to 
see you, secondarily because I want you to see 
me. Ave atque vale. All the pathos which those 


RESPONSIBILITIES OF OFFICE 217 


words suggest to the mind are present in me at 
this moment. You are going to say good-bye to 
the nephew you have known and doubtless loved 
for three-and-twenty summers. His gay irre- 
sponsible cap and bells have been worn for the 
last time. Do you remember a remark of Oscar 
Wilde’s about the number of young men who 
start life with quite a promising talent for exag- 
geration and then lose it all through contact with 
their sober seniors? That’s me, me to the life. 
And Darlington’s is the hand that has wrought 
this change. I told you a week ago about the 
trust he had established with me in charge. 
Incidentally polite society has not yet finished 
chuckling, but their hollow laughter leaves me 
unmoved. They do not see the tragedy of it; 
I do. My dear, I have taken to telling the truth; 
my ward makes it compulsory. How long her 
sense of filial duty will embarrass me in this way 
I cannot tell; but at present, when I see a large 
pair of absolutely confiding blue eyes fixed upon 
me, asking my advice and actually following it, 
I simply have to speak the horrid, obvious truth 
and do my best for the poor child. It reminds me 
of a terrible time I had in Monte Carlo three years 
ago. Ordinarily I loathe little boys like the 
plague. Little girls are different: they are dears, 
but that by the way. Well, a little boy came 
up to me in the hotel and put his hand in mine 
and said; 'Please, I want you to help me find 
father.’ Father, being careless about trifles, had 
lost all his money, got his fare paid by the Casino 
back to England, and departed in an advanced 


218 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


stage of intoxication. This and much more I 
knew and could have told my young friend, add- 
ing that father was no great catch after all, cer- 
tainly not worth chasing over half Europe and 
running to ground in the heavily mortgaged 
ancestral mansion in mid-February with snow on 
the ground. However, I told him nothing. 
I took him by the hand, or rather he took me, 
and so we fared from the sunshine and the orange- 
trees back to mid-winter and — father. Poor 
child, he died last year of typhoid. No, you are 
wrong. The above is not half so irrelevant as 
in your heedless impatience you began to think. 
It just shows that when small helpless things 
with large wistful eyes put their hands in mine 
and tell me to do things, I just have to do them. 
That is what happened three years ago with 
Merlin, and that is what is happening now with 
Violet. 

“Oh, I know it’s very flattering, but I am losing 
my noble manhood. 

“Well, that’s the first reason. Then comes the 
all-important ward. You have not yet seen 
Violet. You shall see her to-day, and to-night 
you shall tell me in tones of proper humility that 
for every year of your life that you have not seen 
Violet, you have spent a wasted year. She’s 
like the Koh-i-Noor: there’s nothing like her in 
the whole world. 

“Next point. Poor child, she’s still frightfully 
upset about her father going away, and I want 
you to comfort her. Evelyn dear, I’m a bit 
heavy in the hand for that sort of thing, but it’s 


RESPONSIBILITIES OF OFFICE 219 


different with you. Later on I shall come to you 
and you shall give me good advice about her 
(and I will hand it on and get all the credit). 
At present she just wants somebody to mother 
her a bit. 

“ Turning now to less important things, the car 
will contain Enid Sutherland. Her you do not 
yet know, but, as I told you last week, she is my 
joint-guardian. Close upon the heels of the fair 
Enid comes Mortimer Forrest: him you know. 
Nominally he professes anxiety to see Lionel’s 
new house; in reality he wants to sit and look at 
Enid. When we are less busy we will have those 
two mated. They are unresisting, each hanging 
like a ripe peach over the open mouth of the 
other, if you can visualize how that is done. 
Which makes poor sport, like a bull-fight I watched 
at Granada, when one wily beast refused to fight 
and had to be flogged out of the arena. Mais 
ce servira a passer le temps . 

“ Finally comes the inimitable John Stanford. 
I fancy he pretends he wants to see your new 
rose-garden. But do not be flattered by his 
simulated interest; he only wants to talk to 
Violet. One of these days I will tell you why 
he joined the Samurai. 

“You will probably not have read as far as 
this: in which case the loss is yours, but now the 
exigencies of paper compel me to end. 

“With love to Lionel and yourself, 

“I remain, 

“Ever yours affectionately, 

“Cyril Fitzroy.” 


220 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Lionel gave the letter back to his wife with a 
smile. 

“The responsibilities of office do not seem to 
have impaired Cyril's volubility to any noticeable 
extent. You had better see if you can persuade 
them to stay to dinner, it ought to be very pleasant 
motoring back to town in the cool of the evening. 
Is Myra down yet?” 

“She was out in the garden a moment ago. 
Here she is. Good morning, Myra. Did you 
sleep well?” 

“Beautifully, thanks, Evelyn dear. Good 
morning, Lionel; I saw you early at work superin- 
tending the building.” 

“Yes, if I'd known what an exhausting day I 
had before me I should have lain in bed to get 
up strength. Cyril is bringing a personally con- 
ducted party down after lunch.” 

“So he told me. I met the postman down by 
the mill and he gave me a letter from Cyril say- 
ing he and Violet and a few more were coming 
down. You've not met Violet yet, have you 
Evelyn?” 

“Not yet. Is she all that Cyril says she is?” 

“Oh, all and more; one of the most beautiful 
girls I have ever seen, and she worships Cyril in 
a way that would be embarrassing to anyone less 
sublimely unconscious.” 

“Cyril, like all the men of the Fitzroys, takes 
a certain amount of adoration as his due, "re- 
marked Evelyn, with a smile in the direction of 
her husband. 


RESPONSIBILITIES OF OFFICE 221 


“It may be so,” said Lionel, “but I think with 
Cyril it is largely insensibility. He sets his face 
against squandering any affection or consideration 
on others ; and would be the last person to expect 
other people to lavish affection on him. It is part 
of his creed of self-centered detachment.” 

“A creed which is breaking down rather more 
rapidly than most,” commented Myra. “I am 
only surprised at its having lasted so long.” 

Evelyn’s mind went back to the conversation 
she had had with Myra in Pont Street earlier in 
the summer. 

“What is breaking it down, Myra?” 

“Perhaps he finds it inconsistent with his posi- 
tion as guardian; perhaps he is trying to rise 
to the heights where Violet has placed him; per- 
haps some one else has shed an influence over 
him. Who knows?” 

Evelyn perceived that Myra was not minded 
to add anything to what she had said in Pont 
Street. There was, of course, nothing to identify 
Cyril with the man she had announced her in- 
tention of seeking out and compelling to love her, 
the “luckless victim” or “reluctant lover,” as 
they had agreed to call him; but it was undeniable 
that Myra and Cyril had met much; and were 
corresponding freely, and Evelyn determined to 
watch the manner of their meeting that day to 
see whether it offered anything to strengthen her 
suspicions or to sweep them away as ill-founded. 

It was nearly three o’clock before the car was 
heard running slowly through the winding drive 


222 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


from the mill to the cottage. Cyril was driving 
with Lady Violet by his side and the other three 
passengers distributed in the body of the car. 
They came to a standstill by the cottage door and 
Cyril helped Lady Violet to alight. Evelyn Fitz- 
roy rose from the big garden chair in which she 
was reclining and came forward to greet them. 

“I have apologized already, Evelyn, for this 
descent in force; I will now make the necessary 
introductions and then we shall all be more at 
peace. This is Lady Violet Anstruther, my ward : 
Violet, my aunt Evelyn. Evelyn, Mrs. Suther- 
land my fellow-guardian : Enid, my aunt. Johnny 
and Morty you already know — probably to your 
cost.” 

“Now, would you like tea now or would you 
prefer to cool in the garden first and have tea 
later?” asked Mrs. Fitzroy. 

“Tea later, Evelyn, say I, speaking for my 
party. We had lunch only an hour ago. I would 
suggest your sending Lionel over to the new house 
to explain its wonders to those who have not 
seen it before, while you and I sit on the lawn 
and discuss them in their absence.” 

No objection was made to this proposal, and 
the entire party, with the exception of Evelyn 
and Cyril, set out in the direction of the water- 
garden. Myra was seated at the far side of the 
valley when the car drove up and now moved 
down the path by the stream’s edge to meet 
them. 

“Take care of the child, Johnny,” called Cyril 


RESPONSIBILITIES OF OFFICE 223 


as John Stanford and Lady Violet walked away 
together. 

Johnny turned round to make retort. 

“Cyril, there was once a hen with one chicken.” 

“You are evidently a student of nature,” said 
Cyril; “go on with your story, I am all atten- 
tion.” 

• “It isn’t a story.” 

“What is it, a statistic, a piece of farmyard 
realism or merely a poem in prose?” 

“It is a parallel.” He disappeared down the 
side of the hill. 

“And that,” said Cyril, turning to his aunt, 
“is the reward I get for trying to do my duty 
conscientiously. Well, Evelyn, do you approve 
of my choice in wards?” 

“Quite unreservedly, Cyril. She is like a little 
fairy, and I want you to tell me all about her and 
about your new position.” 

“I don’t know that there’s very much to tell. 
I have known her for a year or two now and we 
get on perfectly together, so well indeed that her 
father, who strongly disapproves of my character, 
opinions, and way of life, has not had the heart 
to break up so idyllic a friendship, and has even 
gone to the point of making me joint-guardian 
during his absence in India. Enid is going to 
give up the cottage near Oxford, where she has 
been living, and is going to settle down in Charles 
Street with Violet. About time, too. Do you 
know, that poor child has been living quite alone 
with her father ever since her mother died, twelve 


224 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


years ago? Not a soul to talk to her and comfort 
her and help her out of her little troubles, except 
on those comparatively rare occasions when I 
called and took her in hand, and all the time re- 
garded by her father merely as an instrument to 
secure salvation on a large scale, which means 
presiding over dull dinner-parties and growing up 
without even appreciating the beauties of child- 
hood.^ 

“How old is she?” 

“Nearly sixteen.” 

“She looks more. And so you are going to 
restore her youth?” 

“Yes, with the aid of Enid Sutherland. Enid 
takes charge of the home department, I look 
after the treasury, and at frequent intervals we 
hold cabinet councils to decide the policy to be 
adopted in re our ward.” 

“And who is this Mrs. Sutherland?” 

“An old friend of mine and of Lord Darling- 
ton’s. She was a Miss Dash wood ; then she mar- 
ried Rawdon Sutherland and very properly di- 
vorced him. That was last year; I expect you 
remember the case. She is now just Enid Suther- 
land, age twenty-three, height five foot six, and 
passing fair. She will be, if I read the signs 
aright ” He paused. 

“Mrs. Cyril Fitzroy?” 

“Oh, dear me, no! Enid knows me far too well 
to take such a risk. I fancy we shall both live 
to see her as Mrs. Mortimer Forrest. Either that 
or Mrs. Rodney Trelawney; but I put my money 
on the first choice.” 


RESPONSIBILITIES OF OFFICE 225 


“Why do you suggest Rodney?” 

“Because of the marked attentions he has been 
paying her in Oxford, particularly during Com- 
mem. week ; but I think it is only one of his usual 
fortnightly infatuations, and I am sure Enid is 
not allowing her young heart to get into a flutter 
over him. He was to her the idle amusement of 
a summer day and she was to him a pis aller 
after a more serious entanglement in London 
at the beginning of the season. No, we had 
better keep Enid for Morty.” 

“And leave Rodney free for Myra Wood- 
bridge ?” 

“If she wants him, yes.” 

“And what of yourself?” 

“Oh, leave me out of the reckoning. Are not 
my hands sufficiently full with my guardianship? 
Your duty, Evelyn, is to smooth the path for 
Morty and Enid. Morty reproduces other 
people’s catchwords with the accuracy of a gramo- 
phone; it is almost uncanny to hear the stream 
of Darlingtonisms which falls from his lips, and 
to know that all the time Darlington is speeding 
away to the other side of the world. Morty is 
anxious to get married, because a man of six- 
and-twenty who remains unmarried tends to 
think too much of the way his cutlet is cooked and 
whether Hollandaise or butter sauce goes better 
with asparagus; because he owes it to the state 
to rear a healthy family sound in body and mind, 
instead of leaving the future of the race in the 
hands of the ill-nourished and uneducated. Morty 


15 


226 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


fancies that Enid will give him the stimulus and 
sympathy without which, he assures me, man 
can do no work of lasting value. Enid is to 
soothe his artistic sense by playing a violin 
obligato to his spirited pianoforte rendering of 
Beethoven; she is to encourage and applaud his 
philanthropic work in the East End; she is to 
go out into society with him when her lord is 
socially inclined; she is to enjoy by his side the 
elaborate ritual of the Anglo-Catholic Church, 
and when he is tired with the effort of coping with 
an imaginary practice, she is to warm his slippers, 
listen to his obiter dicta on Order Fourteen, and 
discuss the probable candidates for the last 
vacant County Court judgeship.” 

“And what does Enid say to this programme?” 

“She hasn’t said much as yet, but she is going 
to marry him because she recognizes that he is 
a delightful person, whose only defect is to lack 
a sense of humor, and when she has married him 
she will teach him that all husbands start out by 
sketching a programme for their wives, and end 
up by wailing dismally through part of the pro- 
gramme which their wives sketch out for them.” 
He stopped speaking as Morty himself came in 
sight, walking up the valley path with Myra 
Woodbridge. “We have as usual been discussing 
you, Morty,” he remarked, going forward to greet 
Myra, “and have been agreeing on the improving 
effect which marriage will have on you.” 

“We can return the compliment, Cyril,” said 
Myra. “Morty and I have been discussing the 


RESPONSIBILITIES OF OFFICE 227 


improving effect which your guardianship is 
going to produce on you. Morty has been hold- 
ing forth in the manner of an ancient Greek god.” 

“ Anything less like a Greek god than our 
plump-faced, long-legged friend, I have seldom 
seen,” murmured Cyril. 

“When I say Greek god I mean Nemesis. 
Morty as Nemesis is most impressive.” 

“It is an impressive occasion.” Mortimer had 
from force of habit drawn himself into an upright 
position in his chair, a pair of eye-glasses dangled 
from his right hand, while his left felt vainly for 
the table and papers which were not there. “This, 
Mrs. Fitzroy, is the material from which a Greek 
tragedy might be constructed, with Cyril as the 
protagonist. For three-and-twenty years he 
walks his presumptuous way, an offence in the 
eyes of gods and men, openly declaring that he 
cares for nobody, no, not he, and nobody cares 
for him. Then the hand of Nemesis is seen: our 
debonair egoist is driven to become guardian of 
a young and probably delicate girl. The nine- 
teen hours a day which he previously devoted to 
thinking of himself he now consecrates to his 
charge. Good-bye to the apolaustic dinners, 
good-bye to the self-indulgent bachelor chambers, 
good-bye to the gilded saloons of Mayfair and the 
slender, dark-eyed sylphs who await him there. 
The next time he appears in a ballroom, it will 
be to lean yawning against a wall, chaperoning his 
ward and groaning for supper or bed. This is 
the way of the ungodly.” 


228 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Cyril turned lazily in his chair. 

“I could sketch Morty ’s later career for you, 
Evelyn, if I wanted to, but I sha’nt. It is prob- 
ably unpleasant and certainly uninteresting. 
Rather let me discuss my own affairs and break 
it to you that you will see very little of me for 
the next two years.” He glanced at Myra as he 
spoke. 

“What is going to happen to you?” 

“We are going abroad, Enid and Violet and I, 
the world before us, Providence our guide and 
education our object.” 

“When do you start, and where do you go?” 

“We start in October and spend the winter 
in Syria and Egypt, the homes of western religion. 
We shall spend the spring in Greece and study the 
sources of western art; the summer will see us 
again in England. The following autumn we 
familiarize ourselves with the headwaters of 
western law and civilization in Italy, spend a 
short time observing modern Israel in his cos- 
mopolitan surroundings on the Riviera, and after 
a brief spell in the musical centers of Germany 
and Belgium, we bring the finished article back to 
England.” 

“Two years crowded with incident,” remarked 
Morty. “Why not have a look at Moorish re- 
mains in Spain, the homes of the Norsemen, and 
modern pork-packing developments in Chicago — 
U. S. A.?” 

“Time forbids, Morty. We must be home in 
two years’ time.” Again Cyril glanced at Myra 
and caught her eye. 


RESPONSIBILITIES OF OFFICE 229 


“Why two years?” asked Evelyn. 

“Violet will be rising eighteen and will have to 
‘come out/ for one reason. For another, I am 
not sure that London society could stand the 
loss of three such ornaments as Enid, Violet, and 
myself for more than two years.” 

“And what happens then?” asked Mortimer. 
“Is the guardianship over? When does Dar- 
lington return from India?” 

“I don’t expect to see Darlington home for five 
years. The trust comes to an end when he re- 
turns, or when Violet comes of age or marries. 
No, when we get back to England after our travels, 
I shall turn to, with Evelyn’s tried and valued 
assistance, and find a suitable husband for Violet. 
To save future unpleasantness, Morty, I may tell 
you that you will not be regarded as eligible.” 

“And when you have found a husband for 
Violet,” said Myra, “you will have to find another 
for Enid.” 

“That is done already,” remarked Cyril vaguely. 

“And when you have found a husband for 
Enid,” said Evelyn, “and have robbed all mere 
female matchmakers of a livelihood, you will be 
free to settle down to that life of cultured detach- 
ment which is now being so rudely interrupted?” 

“No, I fancy example will have proved con- 
tagious. I shall then select a suitable bride for 
myself. Is it raining, Morty?” 

The sky had become overcast while they talked 
and the first large drops of a summer storm were 
falling. Morty picked up his deck-chair and 
moved towards the house. 


230 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“ Moisture is falling,” he remarked, “but it is 
not rain. Rather it is the tears of the angels on 
hearing that Cyril Fitzroy proposes to get mar- 
ried.” 

He led the way indoors, while Cyril and Myra, 
taking opposite ends of the garden-couch on which 
she and Evelyn had been sitting, prepared to 
follow in silence. 


CHAPTER XIV 


PROVIDENCE GETS TO WORK A SECOND TIME 
“ Redintegratio amoris.” 

A WEEK had slipped away since Cyril's 
visit to his aunt at Wateracre and Evelyn 
Fitzroy awoke one day to the fact that 
time was passing and she had made less 
than no progress in the direction of bending Myra 
Woodbridge’s obstinate young will to do her bid- 
ding. She spent some time thinking of her next 
move, and then decided that with Myra it was use- 
less to be subtle, but paying to be bold ; and the 
result of her decision materialized in a dinner party 
sufficiently small to make a meeting between 
Rodney and Myra inevitable, but large enough 
to keep it comparatively inconspicuous. Her irre- 
sponsible nephew she did not invite; whether 
Myra had him in mind, or had seriously taken the 
aggressive, were points on which Evelyn still 
lacked reliable information, but she knew sufficient 
of Myra’s natural perversity to remove any object 
of interest which might rival Rodney in a claim 
on her attention. Her final precaution was to 
invite Myra a few minutes before the other guests, 
in order to prepare her for the people she was 
to meet. 


231 


232 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


At a few minutes after eight Myra swam into 
the drawing-room, arrayed in the barbaric colors 
which she inclined to favor, a green transparent 
silk skirt hanging to her knees over a russet brown 
dress. 

“Well, Evelyn, I have done your bidding and 
come early and now I expect to be rewarded with 
some confidences which you considered too sacred 
to divulge in presence of your other guests.” 

Evelyn laughed softly. 

“Clever child, Myra. I wanted to tell you 
who is going to be here to-night and how you have 
got to behave.” 

“Evelyn darling, that’s rather a reflection on 
my deportment generally! I never thought you 
would find it necessary to warn me not to forget 
my manners in company.” 

*‘My dear, your manners are perfect, but your 
behavior is so irresponsible that you ought never 
to accept an invitation without inquiring who else 
has been invited, and then rehearsing yourself 
into a suitable frame of mind.” 

“That would be like your preposterous nephew 
Cyril. I went with him yesterday to call in 
Cadogan Square. He rang the bell and asked the 
footman if he was expected to dinner. The man 
said ‘Yes.’ ‘Who else is coming?’ asked Cyril. 
The man rolled off a string of names. ‘Thank 
you, James,’ said Cyril. ‘I sha’nt be able to 
come to-night. Don’t say I called,’ and off he 
went. Abominably rude of him, I thought.” 
“Abominably. I wonder anyone continues to 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


233 


invite him out. But I suppose he went, after 
all?” 

“Oh, dear me, no! Telephoned to make an 
improbable excuse and then took me to the 
theatre. We had a delightful evening together.” 

“And now you are sitting in judgment on him! 
You and he have a demoralizing effect on each 
other. That is why I’ve not asked him here 
to-night.” 

“Oh, Evelyn, how unfair! I am the one 
steadying influence in his life; I looked forward 
to meeting him to-night in order to continue his 
moral elevation. Whom have you got in his 
place? I am feeling filled with good influence 
for young men and I want a lamb for the 
slaughter.” 

“Rodney is coming — for one.” 

Myra allowed herself time to take in this an- 
nouncement in its entirety, then said very quietly: 

“Why did you do that, Evelyn? Knowing 
what you do about us, wasn’t that rather tact- 
less? It will make things very difficult for us 
both.” 

“My dear, Rodney is hardly likely to repeat 
his request to you to-night, so there is no need 
to be embarrassed. He won’t even take you in 
to dinner, and if he talks to you I only ask that 
you treat him with common civility. I’m going 
away again to-morrow and this is my last oppor- 
tunity of having you both to dinner, so I hope 
you won’t spoil my party by any absurd demon- 
strations.” 


234 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“My dear Evelyn, I should never do that, but 
I wish you hadn’t done it so soon after — after 
what happened.” 

“There’s method in my tactlessness, as you 
think it. You and Rodney have been busily 
avoiding each other for a month past. Well, 
whether you ever change your mind towards him 
is a matter beyond my control, but I can and will 
do my poor best to keep you from drifting into a 
condition of armed neutrality. All I want you 
to do is to show Rodney that you are still willing 
to be friends with him, and after that I leave you 
to work out your own salvation.” 

Myra sighed. 

“I’ll do my best, Evelyn, but I can’t help think- 
ing that you are making a mistake.” 

The drawing-room door opened and admitted 
a large proportion of the evening’s guests: John 
Stanford, corpulent but immaculate; George 
Fair, bristling with that armory of exclusive stop- 
press information which always encircles a journal- 
ist; and finally Mortimer Forrest, careworn and 
wistfully conscious of the world’s wickedness and 
the responsibilities it brought him as an Old 
Bailey barrister thriving on a case a month and 
wishing he could overcome his regrettable appear- 
ance of juvenility. The introductions were hardly 
over when Lady Violet Anstruther was announced, 
and walked into the room followed by the tall, 
graceful figure of Mrs. Fitzroy’s cousin Margaret 
Cal-dew. Then for the last time the door opened 
to admit Rodney Trelawney, slightly apologetic 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


235 


for being late, but unashamedly satisfied with his 
personal appearance and the outward circum- 
stances of life in general. 

Mrs. Fitzroy greeted him affectionately and 
prepared to divide up her guests for their progress 
to the dining-room. 

“Mr. Fair, will you take in Miss Woodbridge? 
Mr. Stanford, Lady Violet? Mr. Forrest, will 
you take Margaret; and Rodney, will you bring 
up the rear with me?” 

The width of the table separated Myra from 
Rodney, and Mrs. Fitzroy at the head was in a 
commanding position to ride the wind and con- 
trol the whirlwind if it should be necessary. 
Rodney had evidently been surprised and put out 
of countenance at finding himself in the same 
room as Myra, and as hostess she felt the neces- 
sity of plunging into conversation before he had 
time to grow self-conscious. 

“Well, Rodney, Fve not seen you since you 
damaged your knee, but as you have no difficulty 
in walking with your old easy grace, I suppose 
I may conclude that you are recovered?” 

“Oh, I’m quite all right again now, Mrs. Fitz- 
roy, thanks. I had to lie up for a week, but I 
was well looked after, and now I’ve made a com- 
plete recovery.” 

“I was sorry to hear about it on my own 
account as well as yours, as I should have held 
you to your promise to invite me up for Com- 
mem. if you had been in a fit condition.” 

Rodney made no reply and merely looked un- 


236 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


comfortable. His discomfort was not relieved 
when George Fair broke in with : 

“ Weren’t you able to go to Commem., Tre- 
lawney? House ball, too? That was very bad 
luck.” 

“As a matter of fact,” stammered Rodney, 
“I did go to the ball — at the last moment, you 
know. There wasn’t time to let you know, Mrs. 
Fitzroy.” 

“Oh, Rodney!” Mrs. Fitzroy’s voice was filled 
with simulated pain and grief. “The accident 
happened weeks ago, you had to lie up only one 
week, and a whole blessed fortnight was not long 
enough to let me know! My faith in you is gone.” 

“These petty deceptions, Rodney, are not only 
useless, they are inartistic.” John Stanford 
warmed to the genial work of involving him in 
further commitments. “The fact is, Mrs. Fitz- 
roy, Rodney didn’t want you to know who went 
with him.” 

“My dear Johnny, there’s absolutely nothing 
about that ball which I mind telling Mrs. Fitzroy.” 

“Telling — yes! with no eye-witnesses to contra- 
dict you. Seeing — no! You can’t brazen things 
out in the same way if you fabricate your story 
under the accusing eye of someone who was on 
the spot at the time.” 

“Well, Rodney,” said Mrs. Fitzroy, “who went 
with you?” 

“My mother,” answered Rodney, with a piteous 
attempt to gain credence for his reply. 

“But who else was there?” 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


237 


“Oh, a crowd of people, tout le monde .” 

“ Tout le demi-monde ,” murmured George Fair. 

“I fear so,” rejoined Mrs. Fitzroy, nodding to 
him, “or else there would be less mystery about 
it.” 

“There seem to have been all the elements of a 
thoroughly disreputable evening,” remarked John 
Stanford to the world at large. “In anyone else 
it would not surprise me so much, but Rodney — 
guis custodiet now?” 

Rodney’s sensitive cheek revealed a betraying 
flush. 

“I repeat that nothing happened that I would 
mind repeating to Mrs. Fitzroy. Of course, in 
the presence of a man like Johnny, whose pruriency 
of mind is revealed in almost every word he 
speaks, one is inclined to greater reticence.” 

“Now he’s abusing the plaintiff’s attorney, 
Mrs. Fitzroy,” commented Morty Forrest. “He 
shows every evidence of guilt.” 

“Well, never mind, Rodney, you shall tell me 
all about it later on, when we’re by ourselves. 
The great thing is, did you enjoy yourself? 
Nothing else matters.” 

“What an immoral doctrine, Mrs. Fitzroy! 
But I did enjoy myself; it was — bar none — the 
best evening of my life.” 

John Stanford shook his head sadly. 

“From our present knowledge of Rodney’s 
character we have, alas! no grounds for divorcing 
enjoyment from disreputability. Did you go 
with a party, Rodney, or wander in by yourself, 


238 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


seeking whom you might devour? I exclude your 
mother, who doubtless tried unavailingly to 
moderate your newly developed trend of immor- 
ality.” 

“I went with a party of sorts.” 

“ ‘Of sorts— that much we gladly concede. 
A party of one, I imagine?” 

“Mrs. Fitzroy, do you allow your guests to be 
hectored and insulted in the way Johnny is hec- 
toring and insulting me now?” 

“Candidly, yes,” said Evelyn, with a laugh, 
“if it provides good sport for the onlookers. But 
we'll change the subject and leave the mysterious 
charmer's name undiscovered for the present. 
Rodney has one joy in life greater than committing 
an indiscretion, and that is, having it talked about. 
Did you go to any other balls?” 

“No, only that one.” 

“Why didn't you go to the Balliol ball?” asked 
Mortimer Forrest. “I'm told it was one of the 
best.” 

Rodney saw an opportunity of changing from 
attacked to attacker. 

“My dear Morty, in heaven’s name, why 
should I — why should any man go to Balliol, 
most of all when the Balliol man emerges from 
the decent obscurity of his primitive lair and 
indulges in scenes of dusky jubilation?” 

Mortimer sighed heavily. 

“Adam once told the Serpent that there was 
a black man at Balliol; it was untrue, but for 
some unaccountable reason he regarded it in the 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


239 


light of a joke. Then Eve was told the story, 
and she told it again to the Serpent. The Serpent 
was a patient creature, but a day came when 
he could no longer stand that story and he invoked 
the assistance of the angel with the flaming sword 
to rid Eden of those two wearisome creatures. 
But the angel was tender-hearted and instead of 
killing them and their story with them, he turned 
them out of Eden with license to amuse their 
small minds with the black-man story. The 
world has been the sadder. I have said.” 

“My dear Morty” — Rodney’s voice was full 
of sympathy — “I did not know you would take 
it to heart so much. I had almost forgotten that 
you were a Balliol man.” 

“ Forgotten!” echoed John Stanford. “Does 
not every Balliol man bear in his face the memories 
of those devastating years? They tell me, though 
I have never seen it, that one man is lynched 
every Sunday night in full term, pour encourager 
les autres and amuse the members of Trinity. 
Jowett started the Balliol concerts to drown the 
screams of dying agony.” 

The expression of weariness had deepened on 
Mortimer Forrest’s face. 

“I ask only one thing: that you refrain from 
the story of the Balliol missionary who owed his 
escape from the cauldron solely to the discovery 
by means of a hat riband that both diners and 
dinner derived their educational advantages from 
the same hospitable alma mater. I don’t mind 
the story, but it belongs to Christ’s, Cambridge.” 

Mrs. Fitzroy came to his rescue. 


240 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Morty’s air of quiet dignity is proof against 
the most offensive charges. You should imitate 
him, Rodney, so that the next time you have 
anything to conceal, your appearance will not be 
quite so transparent.” 

“But I have nothing to conceal, Mrs. Fitzroy. 
My manner is transparent because my life is 
blameless.” 

“Rodney can do no wrong! So your mother 
thinks. It is a strange delusion. Lady De- 
launay is the same with Myra, which is even 
stranger. Strangest of all is that Violet thinks 
my nephew Cyril is infallible, and in that case 
there is no tie of blood to prejudice her.” 

“You mustn’t speak against my guardian, 
Mrs. Fitzroy, it will weaken my instinctive re- 
spect for him and make his task more difficult 
even than at present.” 

“I agree with the conclusion, but the premises 
strike me as unsound.” With the disappearance 
of Commemoration as a topic of conversation, 
Rodney’s manner had perceptibly brightened. 
“Your instinctive respect for your guardian, Lady 
Violet, is going to be undermined as it has never 
been undermined before. I see an unequaled 
opportunity for throwing aspersions on Cyril’s 
character, and if I lose this chance of repaying 
him in generous measure for the insults he throws 
in my face and the slanders he circulates behind 
my back, I am confident that it will never return 
to me.” 

“Take care, Rodney,” advised John Stanford, 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


241 


“he probably knows more to your discredit than 
you know to his. The field of selection is so 
much wider.” 

“And remember, Trelawney,” added George 
Fair, “that he has an uncanny knack of laying 
your most cherished secrets bare. What he doesn’t 
know he makes up, but he usually knows. I 
shall go to him for information about this business 
of the House ball. I am proud to be honored 
with his friendship and to be able to throw him 
into the opposite scale when women claim a 
monopoly of scandal and tale-bearing.” 

John Stanford turned to his neighbor. 

“I fancy your guardian’s character is going 
to be spared, Lady Violet. We have terrorized 
Rodney and silenced him with the aid of his own 
guilty conscience. But to return to an earlier 
point. I believe I am right in saying that a trustee 
usually has powers to hand over the trust to 
another man, or, at any rate, to reinforce the 
number of trustees. I am hourly expecting Cyril 
to abdicate in my favor, or at least to associate 
me with him in the control of empire.” 

Lady Violet laughed. 

“You wouldn’t like it, Mr. Stanford; you 
would find it a very exacting task. Do you see 
this dress I’m wearing?” 

“I do.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“I think it’s charming. It reflects credit on 
you in the choosing and the wearing.” 

“ How nicely you said that ! But you’ve missed 


16 


242 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


the moral — which is that I didn’t choose it. 
I made my guardian see to that.” 

“He’s got better taste than I thought.” 

“Since I took him in hand he’s displaying all 
kinds of unsuspected virtues. But the choosing 
of the dress was nothing to the matching of the 
stockings. It’s not a common shade of gray, 
and we spent the whole of yesterday afternoon 
and this morning trying to get a perfect match.” 

“And now Cyril has had a gruel supper and 
retired to an early bed to be ready for to-morrow’s 
labors?” 

“Oh, no. He drove down here with me and 
wanted to come and fetch me away, but I sent 
him home to deal with some letters connected 
with the Anstruther Trust. Now do you want 
him to abdicate in your favor?” 

John Stanford turned and looked her squarely . 
in the face, wondering as he did so whether he 
had ever seen a more beautiful face; he was 
sure that he was looking into the softest eyes in 
the world. 

“Quite honestly, Lady Violet, if I had the 
opportunity I would change places with him 
to-morrow. It would be a new sensation.” 

She treated him to a bow of mock solemnity. 

“I will bear that in mind when I’ve finished my 
work of reformation. Poor Cyril, I am sure he 
would hate the idea if he ever regarded it in that 
light. While he fancies that he’s busily engaged 
in my education and upbringing, he little knows 
that it’s his own education that’s being brought 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


243 


about. He’s a new man, already, after a fort- 
night’s treatment; in two years he will be un- 
recognizable.” 

“And dreadfully dull, I am afraid, Lady Violet. 
What happens then?” 

“Oh, then I hand him over to my father, a 
perfectly useful member of society and quite 
schooled to the idea that he exists for the good 
of the world instead of his present, or former, 
notion that the world exists solely for his good.” 

“I think it’s misdirected energy, Lady Violet, 
and immoderately hard work at that.” 

“So hard that I dare not dissipate my strength 
in trying to put you to school with him; but I 
think the result will justify my labors, and any- 
way it’s the first time my father has shown any 
evidence of a sense of humor, and I don’t mean 
to discourage his first efforts.” 

The conversation had ceased to be general at 
the moment when Violet and John Stanford had 
retired from it, and until the end of the meal four 
different topics were under discussion by as many 
different couples. Mortimer Forrest and Miss 
Cardew compared notes on the Bayreuth Festival, 
with every semblance of satisfaction and enjoy- 
ment. Mrs. Fitzroy was trying to divine what 
change had come over Rodney since last she met 
him, on the occasion of his gloomy outburst 
against the unmarried don and all his works. 
Myra sat silent, in appearance listening with 
interest to the account of a minor war in the 
Balkans which George Fair had witnessed as 


244 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 

special correspondent, in reality thinking hard 
how to accede to Evelyn’s request that she should 
bridge the gulf which had opened up between 
Rodney and herself. 

No solution had presented itself by the time 
they adjourned to the drawing-room. The men 
had been granted permission to bring their cigars 
with them, and Myra felt embarrassed at being 
deprived of the few moments’ solitude which she 
had mentally postulated in order to think out a 
suitable form of words for her difficult effort at 
rapprochement. She sought such solitude as the 
room afforded by retiring to the end farthest 
from the piano, and was settling herself for con- 
templation when a fresh source of embarrassment 
presented itself. At Mortimer Forrest’s request 
Lady Violet had seated herself at the piano; 
Miss Cardew, on whom he had prevailed to sing, 
was discussing the acompaniment of Tosti’s 
“ Spring”; and as the remaining guests selected 
seats of comfort and vantage, she saw Rodney — 
every other position eliminated by the skilful 
tactics of Mrs. Fitzroy — advancing to the unoc- 
cupied chair at her side. 

She welcomed him with a smile and they sat in 
silence until the end of the song. Margaret 
Cardew had a contralto voice of rare depth and 
charm, and Rodney surrendered himself heart and 
soul to the music, sitting with half-closed eyes 
and letting each thrilling note throb itself into 
the inmost recesses of his brain. Several minutes 
had elapsed after the song was over and the low 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 245 

murmur of applause had subsided before he broke 
the spell to remark in a low voice: 

“I would give five years of my life for Miss 
Cardew’s voice.” 

Myra watched the singer idly turning over the 
music at the piano. 

“I would give five years of my life for Miss 
Cardew’s hair. You see the difference in our 
characters; you want the lasting, spiritual gift 
of song, but I only hanker after the fleeting vanities 
of external appearance.” 

“What is the/matter with your own hair, Miss 
Woodbridge? I admit I stand in need of rein- 
forcement, but that cannot be your reason for 
wanting a change.” 

“It’s the quantity I envy, and the color, though 
I should have to have her complexion to go with 
it. But why have I been degraded to ‘Miss 
Woodbridge,’ Rodney?” 

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

“Surely that question is unnecessary, and surely 
it bears on rather an embarrassing topic.” 

“Then I apologize for my gaucherie in putting 
it, and still more — in all humility of spirit — for 
my stupidity in finding it necessary.” 

“Miss Woodbridge, are you serious?” 

“I was never more so.” 

“Then you will excuse me for saying that it 
shows some little want of delicacy, or any way 
of perception, to think that our relations could 
continue unchanged by a certain speech I made 
to you and, a certain letter you sent me in reply.” 


246 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


He spoke with considerable coldness, and the 
softness of Myra’s voice in answer made a notice- 
able contrast. 

“I never imagined, Rodney, that our relations 
would be unchanged, but I did think, and I still 
think, that it was possible for me to write that 
letter and for our friendship to be unbroken by 
it.” 

“Then I think you misunderstand human 
nature, Miss Woodbridge, you certainly mis- 
understand male nature. I can be friends with 
people I could never contemplate marrying, 
whether because they don’t attract me in that 
way, or because, like Mrs. Fitzroy, they are 
already married. And I imagine I could be 
friends — and nothing more — with people who are 
marriageable from every point of view. That is 
rather more doubtful; at the base of every friend- 
ship between man and woman lies primitive sexual 
attraction, or in more polite language — the ulti- 
mate possibility of marriage. It may never play 
a prominent part, but it’s there all the time. 
However, that is a digression. The point I want 
to emphasize is that friendship ceases to be pos- 
sible when a man is so conscious of a woman’s — 
what shall I call it? — marriageability that he asks 
her to be his wife and she tells him she will do 
nothing of the sort — or, to be accurate, That at 
present she doesn’t feel . . .’ and so forth.” 

“You say it is impossible, but you don’t say 
why, and I want enlightenment on the man’s 
point of view.” 




PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


247 


“Well, it’s largely the man's fault. He can't 
reconcile himself at first to the idea that from 
the point of view of marriage he is utterly ineligible 
in that particular quarter, and when he is recon- 
ciled, he can’t accustom himself to the new and 
somewhat tame-cat position of Platonic Friend. 
Possibly it is mere pride, and possibly the pride 
is entirely wrong-headed, but mere man does not 
find it easy to forget the humiliation of having his 
suit rejected." 

“No, he does not, and it is the greatest and 
most disastrous mistake of his life. If the Astron- 
omer Royal died to-morrow and you offered 
yourself for his position, would you be humiliated 
by rejection? And if the Astronomer Royal 
offered himself for your Boden professorship of 
Sanscrit, would he be humiliated if some one else 
were appointed? In the first instance it would 
be no reflection on your Greek scholarship, and 
in the second no reflection on his mathematics. 
The rejection would be based purely on your 
unsuitability for a particular position and would 
imply no unsuitability in general." 

“I cannot apply the same reasoning to the 
relations between man and woman, Myra." 

“But why not?" 

Rodney laughed and Myra noted the hopeful 
sign. 

“Because of man's natural vanity; he fancies 
that he is eligible for every woman he meets. 
He cannot recognize his limitations until they are 
forcibly pointed out to him, and then he is un- 
reasonably aggrieved." 


248 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“And am I — is any girl to be deprived of a 
man’s friendship because she refuses to marry 
him? My dear Rodney, it is unthinkable ! Com- 
pare the countless hordes of the ineligible with 
the almost invisible band of those who might 
some day seem suitable! You are condemning 
a girl to a very lonely life.” 

“Oh, no. I think you miss my point. It is 
possible for you to be friends with any number 
of men who from the point of view of marriage 
could not be seriously contemplated for two 
minutes on end. The thing is, that they don’t 
know it; they still regard themselves as hot 
favorites, or at any rate in the running. They 
have never had their limitations pointed out and 
their fools’ paradise is still undisturbed. But 
with me it’s different; you have definitely and 
unmistakably put me outside the pale, and you 
must not wonder, Myra, if I allow myself to be 
influenced by my pride.” 

“I don’t wonder at it, Rodney, though I de- 
plore it as an unwise and irrational human weak- 
ness. What I do wonder at is the method you 
employ of preserving your dignity.” 

“I don’t quite follow you.” 

“Well, if it’s a humiliation to have your suit 
rejected, I imagine you wish to keep the world 
from prying into your secret.” 

“That goes without saying.” 

“Very well. The world sees a man and girl 
together, frequently and intimately; it may 
speculate and prophesy, being a meddling, in- 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


249 


quisitive world. Then it sees the man moving 
heaven and earth to avoid meeting the girl, hardly 
speaking on those rare, uncomfortable occasions 
when they are forced into a corner together, and 
even going the length of jumping out of a train 
and taking another back to town to avoid being 
under the same roof with her. IPs all right, 
Cyril respected your confidence, and I found that 
out from another source. Well, Rodney, what 
interpretation does the world put on this sudden 
and dramatic estrangement ?” 

She allowed him full time for the moral to sink 
in, and after a pause added: “ There is only one 
interpretation, and the world is very busy making 
it public.” 

“You are right, Myra, perfectly right up to a 
point, and I bow to your superior wisdom. I 
admit it was foolish to allow the world to be a 
spectator of a sudden rupture; I ought to have 
maintained the appearance of our relations having 
undergone no change. But you have not made 
out a case for anything more; you have not 
shaken my idea of the impossibility of our ever 
again being more than casual acquaintances.” 

Myra laughed and stood up preparatory to 
joining the rest of the party at the other end of 
the room, and Rodney rose and stood in front of 
her. 

“No, I have not made out my case there, 
because I have only been appealing to your reason, 
and people are seldom kind or generous from 
rational motives. Now I am going to appeal to 


250 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


something else. I don’t quite know what. I 
can’t afford to lose a friend because he doesn’t 
get just what he asks for.” She placed her hands 
on his shoulders and looked into this eyes. “And 
I can’t afford to lose your friendship, Rodney. 
You have paid me the highest compliment a man 
can pay a woman.” 

His resolution quailed under the steady gaze of 
her dark eyes, but he made a despairing effort. 

“It won’t do, Myra. I beg your pardon, 
‘Miss Woodbridge.’ You are asking an impos- 
sibility.” 

“I prefer ‘Myra,’ and so do you. You’ve been 
betrayed into it four times through force of an- 
cient habit.” 

“Then if force of ancient habit brings me back 
as a friend, force of ancient habit will bring me 
back as a friend on the old terms, friendship 
brightened by a certain hope.” 

There was a shade of distress in her voice as 
she answered. 

“I can hold out no hope, Rodney; I want your 
friendship on a new basis without any thought 
for the future.” 

“But that’s just what I can’t give you, Myra. 
I drink to the establishment of peace, but it is 
a peace of my own making, and I reserve to my- 
self the right of cherishing what hopes I like, 
even the most foolish hope of all — that you may 
some day repent of writing me the letter you did.” 

Later in the evening Rodney left Pont Street 
in a condition of inward elation which was intensi- 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


251 


fied rather than diminished as he walked home. 
He whistled shrilly and emotionally for the length 
of Knightsbridge and Piccadilly, walking bare- 
headed and swinging his opera hat in his hand. 
His spirits were still unsubdued when he reached 
the Temple, and he climbed the stairs to Cyril’s 
rooms to the strains of the “ Rosary,” sung with 
a cheerfulness quite alien to the motif of that song. 

Cyril was sitting in pajamas and a pink silk 
kimono at one end of his dining-room table. He 
was surrounded by papers, and in front of him 
stood an abnormally large deed-box marked with 
the words “Anstruther Trust.” On his knees and 
covering the whole of his lap lay a black cat 
sleeping and declining to be disturbed by the 
movement of his pen. At the other end of the 
table sat his brother — Hugo — busily engaged with 
blue draft and a handful of chalks in subjecting 
some of the more notable incidents in Cyril’s 
eventful life to artistic treatment. The sketches 
covered one-half of the table, and the output 
was to all appearances inexhaustible. The artist 
was engaged on a fresh study when Rodney burst 
into the room and sank into the largest armchair. 

“You seem pleased with yourself, Rodney,” 
remarked Cyril, “possibly intoxicated. Who was 
she?” 

“Who was what?” 

“Who was the fair young thing who smiled and 
looked softly at you, thereby reducing you to 
your present noisy incoherence?” 

“My dear boy, you tire me.” 


252 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“ Rodney’s getting secretive,” remarked Hugo 
Fitzroy; “time was when he blazoned his indis- 
cretions forth almost before they were com- 
mitted. Now it sometimes takes as long as ten 
minutes to find out what he’s been doing.” 

“You find out, though, just the same. Give 
him time and he’ll weary your ears with her 
charms.” Cyril retired from the discussion and 
went on writing. 

“A more gloomy couple I’ve never seen,” said 
Rodney. “Put down your pen and talk, Cyril, 
instead of making a will and bequeathing things 
you don’t possess to people who don’t want to 
receive them.” 

“My dear Rodney, the greatest folly in the 
world is to insure your life, because you get noth- 
ing out of it; and if you’re a bachelor like me, 
there’s nobody standing to gain by your death. 
The next greatest folly is to make a will. What 
do I care what happens to my goods when I’m 
occupying a neat but inexpensive ash tray at 
Brookwood?” 

“But think what a mess your things will get 
into, with Hugo taking your editions de luxe and 
illustrating them in the margin on principles 
peculiarly his own. You will forsake your warm 
corner to prevent the sacrilege.” 

“When I die, Rodney, I go out like a candle. 
There is an air of finality about it, and I discourage 
all idea of shilly-shallying with this world and its 
works. He may do what he likes with my books — 
assuming he’s my heir-at-law — which he’s not.” 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


253 


Hugo yawned. 

“This is a melancholy and unprofitable discus- 
sion, only justified by its success in quelling the 
aggressively high spirits which Rodney displayed 
on entering your room. Having achieved its 
purpose, let us dismiss it and discuss Rodney’s 
private life — in its double aspect.” 

“Which particular double aspect is this?” in- 
quired Rodney. 

“I refer to the duplicity, or double dealing, 
which enables you to philander in London at a 
time when a girlish heart is beating for you in the 
neighborhood of Oxford.” 

Rodney flushed. 

“This is a most unnecessary and offensive 
charge, Hugo, which I must ask you to sub- 
stantiate or withdraw.” 

“Are you prepared to deny the existence of 
girlish hearts in the neighborhood of Oxford, or 
to say that they don’t beat for you? Think care- 
fully of the sylphs who flock to your lectures on 
Catullus.” 

“I honestly don’t know what you’re driving 
at.” 

“Put him out of his misery, Hugo,” interjected 
Cyril. “We won’t vouch for the heart-beats, but 
there’s a girlish hand wasting its time in writing 
you letters, one of which numerous series lies 
awaiting you on the corner of the mantelpiece.” 
Rodney walked over to fetch it, and as he opened 
the envelope, Cyril upbraided him in a gently 
drawling voice. “I call it an abuse of hospitality, 


254 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Rodney, to divulge the fact that you are staying 
with me. These chambers are sacred to me and 
Endymion my cat. I allow Hugo to breakfast 
with me as the result of an amicable compromise 
by which I get down half an hour before him, 
select the best eggs, and fortify myself with tea 
and a pipe in case he should prove irritable or 
argumentative. Occasionally a friend is privi- 
leged to use my spare room, as you are now doing, 
but I did not think it necessary to hint that these 
chaste rooms were not to be turned into the 
painted background for your young romances.” 

Rodney read the letter without paying the 
slightest attention to Cyril’s remarks. It was 
short, but in the moment of its arrival peculiarly 
embarrassing. 

“Dear Mr. Trelawney” (it ran): 

“If you have not by this time forgotten me and 
the promise you made at Commem. to read the 
MS. of my first six chapters, I hope to hold you 
to your word. The later part of the book is being 
rather recast in form, but the six chapters in 
question have received what I hope is their final 
revision, and I should greatly like your opinion 
of them. Can you come and dine here — Ladies’ 
Union Club, Dover Street — on Friday next at 
eight o’clock, when I will give you the MS. I do 
hope you are disengaged that night, as it is my 
only free evening before I go abroad. 

“Sincerely yours, 

“Enid Sutherland.” 


PROVIDENCE AGAIN 


255 


Rodney walked the length of the room and 
back, lost in thought; then he tore the letter and 
envelope into small pieces, threw them into the 
grate, and turned to face his host. 

“ What are you doing next Friday night, Cyril?” 

“What are you avoiding next Friday night, 
Rodney?” 

“Never mind that, but answer my question.” 

“Well, what do you want me to do?” 

“Oh — dine with me somewhere and go on to a 
theatre.” 

“One or other, Rodney, but not both. If one 
goes to the theatre one has a species of hurried 
high tea. If one dines — well — one dines.” 

“Well — make it what you like. Will you 
come?” 

“Yes, by all means, if you can give me satis- 
factory answers respecting the quality and locale 
of the dinner.” 

“You shall make your own choice.” 

“Then my last objection is overridden.” 

“You’ll come too, Hugo?” 

“My dear Rodney, why this fretful itch for 
hospitality? I will come provided Cyril only 
orders dinner for himself and you, and does not 
try to cater for my unusual palate; but do let 
us know what you’re trying to avoid. Explain 
this nameless terror which follows you from 
Oxford and runs you to earth in the Temple.” 

“My dear boy, I only want an engagement 
that night, and if I can’t be previously engaged — ■ 
I must do the next best thing. You and Cyril 


256 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


figure as the next best thing in the evening’s 
programme. Where do you keep ink and paper 
and so forth, Cyril?” 

“In my bureau, top right-hand pigeon-hole.” 

Rodney sat himself down and wrote a short 
note. 

“Dear Mrs. Sutherland: 

“I regret to say I have promised to give dinner 
on Friday next to two men, one of them my pres- 
ent host. I am so sorry not to be able to accept 
your most kind invitation. 

“Yours sincerely, 

“ Rodney Trelawney.” 

There for the moment the matter ended, with 
the affixing of a penny stamp. In the morning 
he asked Cyril whether the letter had been posted. 
Cyril replied that he had gone out shortly after 
midnight and posted it with his own. Was any- 
thing amiss? Rodney hesitated, and then said 
No. It did not matter now, but on reflection he 
had thought of destroying the letter and sending 
another in its place. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE OF TIME 
“Labuntur anni.” — Horace. 


T OWARDS the end of October Cyril, Enid 
and Violet left England for the Holy Land. 
Cyril had given a farewell dinner the night 
before leaving London in order to reduce 
the number of those who might feel constrained to 
see the last of him, and when the train steamed 
out of Charing Cross next morning, the final 
shaking of hands and waving of handkerchiefs 
were carried out only by Myra, Mortimer Forrest 
and John Stanford. 

“And now / 7 said Johnny, as they turned away 
and walked back along the platform, “I suppose 
we can adapt the memorable phrase of William 
Pitt the Younger and roll up the map of England, 
as it won’t be wanted for the next six months. 
Cyril didn’t seem particularly cut up at the pros- 
pect of going away.” 

“That’s hardly to be wondered at,” com- 
mented Mortimer, “there’s little enough to keep 
him in England. No doubt he is leaving one or 
two aching hearts behind, but I scarcely imagine 
that his own heart would pay them the compli- 
ment of aching in return.” 

257 


17 


258 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“And I’m not sure that he’d show it in any 
case,” said Myra. “Cyril can hardly be regarded 
as demonstrative.” She was thinking of their 
Platonic parting and his strictly non-committal 
words and manner of farewell. 

For six months the wanderers were lost to the 
eyes of their friends in England. A plentiful 
crop of letters indicated the course of their travels 
through Palestine, Egypt, Turkey, and the Morea, 
and showed that under Cyril’s guidance it was 
possible to combine much pleasure with instruc- 
tion. 

Enid Sutherland for reasons of her own wrote 
only to Mortimer Forrest, Lady Violet divided 
her attentions between Myra and John Stanford, 
and Cyril readily supplied the deficiencies of his 
companions. Polysyllabic and many-paged, exu- 
berant in spirit and ornate in diction, his formid- 
able budget scattered itself each mail over the 
breakfast tables of Mrs. Fitzroy, Hugo, Rodney, 
Myra and others. From time to time the letters 
were passed from hand to hand, and the brains 
of all the readers were thrown into common stock 
to extract and agree upon some basis of truth in 
the highly colored narrative. In the circulation 
of letters, Mortimer Forrest played no part, and 
Mrs. Fitzroy, remembering Cyril’s determination 
to hunt Enid and Morty to the altar, drew her 
own conclusions, and applauded her nephew’s 
sagacity and success. There was nothing in 
Violet’s letters to John Stanford which did not 
admit of publication, though he complained jest- 


THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE 259 


ingly that Cyril was abusing his position as guard- 
ian to acquire an undue influence over his ward’s 
mind. 

“ Cyril this and Cyril that!” he exclaimed to 
Myra. “I can see the whole picture: Cyril 
striding from Damascus to Athens, pouring forth 
a flood of learning with appropriate topographical 
quotations from Byron, and Violet humbly follow- 
ing at his heels, wondering whether the whole 
world has ever contained Cyril’s equal, wondering 
too what she has done to deserve such a guide.” 

“Instead of reading it all for herself in Mur- 
ray’s Handbook,” suggested Myra. 

“Where all the quotations from Byron have 
already been set out in their proper places. How- 
ever, it can’t last forever. Cyril will find the 
novelty of being useful to others wearing off very 
quickly. I am only surprised that he has been 
able to keep away from his flesh-pots so long.” 

“Violet is a strong counter-attraction.” 

“True, but I have never known a counter- 
attraction last so long. A year or two ago Cyril 
was very intimate with some girl. I’ve forgotten 
her name, but he used to be seen everywhere 
with her, dinners, theatres, dances — quite a 
promising affair. Then all of a sudden the in- 
timacy came to an end, and when I spoke to him 
about it he assured me that there had been no. 
rupture, and that she had served her purpose, 
which was to tide him over the month of March, 

‘ always a difficult month,’ said Cyril, ‘so many 
people out of England, Lent and March winds, 


260 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


and so forth. March is the hardest month of the 
year for finding amusement.’ I rather fancied 
Violet’s purpose in life was to tide him over the 
winter months from last season till the next.” 

After the New Year the postmarks were in a 
steadily westerly direction, and early in May the 
travelers were expected to be in England once 
more. Mrs. Fitzroy’s new house in Hampshire 
was now complete and ready for habitation, and 
arrangements were on foot for a party at Water- 
acre which should serve at once as a house-warm- 
ing and a welcome home to the two guardians and 
their ward. Myra Woodbridge, John Stanford, 
Rodney Trelawney, Hugo Fitzroy and Mortimer 
Forrest were among those who were invited, and 
their arrivals had been spread over the two days 
preceding that on which Cyril and his fellow- 
travelers were expected. True to his reputation 
and the part for which he had cast himself, Mor- 
timer Forrest arrived by a later train than he had 
indicated and carried a brief-bag as the most 
conspicuous feature of his extensive luggage. 

On the day of the reunion Cyril was expected 
to arrive in time for dinner. The afternoon had 
been spent by Hugo, Mortimer, Johnny and Rod- 
ney in playing tennis, while Myra amused herself 
by cutting early roses for the bedrooms of the 
remaining guests. By six o’clock she was feeling 
restless and disinclined for conversation, and it 
appeared to her that by dressing for dinner with- 
out more delay and coming out again into the 
garden while the other visitors were divesting 


k THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE 261 

themselves of the traces of their exertions, she 
would have an uninterrupted period for reflection 
before Cyril's arrival and the coming of dinner. 
She dressed in a leisurely fashion and wandered 
out into the rose-garden to find that her hostess, 
also dressed for dinner, was enjoying the cool, 
sweet air of the early evening in company with a 
book. 

“ You're dressed early, Myra," said Mrs. Fitz- 
roy; “it is really very considerate of you. Now 
there is a possibility of Rodney being in time for 
dinner." 

“What is the connection, Evelyn?" 

“Why, my dear, Rodney has finished playing 
tennis, he will immediately begin looking for you, 
someone will tell him you were seen going up to 
dress ages ago, and Rodney will go and do like- 
wise in the hopes of being able to talk to you 
before dinner." 

“Rodney seeks my society very faithfully." 

“And constancy, as usual, is unrewarded." 

Myra laughed a little. 

“Rodney has had all the pleasure and excite- 
ment of inconstancy for a life of more than thirty 
summers. He mustn't expect to make the best 
of both worlds by having a prosaic ‘ happy-end- 
ing' to his first essay in constancy. Besides, if 
he wants my society he gets it in full measure, 
too." 

“And if he wants anything more, Myra?" 

“He has been told he must not want anything 
more so far as I am concerned. I am very fond 


262 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


of Rodney, he is almost everything that I like, 
and I think the task of keeping his affections 
centered in myself, if I married him, would almost 
be enough to call forth my fighting powers — the 
powers of which you disapprove so much, Evelyn 
dear. But Rodney and I meet on the terms of 
old friends, and if we pass that point we shall 
not be able to meet any more. It’s not a bad 
arrangement, Evelyn; Rodney and I have had 
some very happy times during the last six 
months.” 

“It’s not a bad arrangement for you, dear, but 
I question its fairness to Rodney. He is clinging 
to the hope that you will some day change your 
mind.” She turned to look more closely at Myra. 
“If you were married or engaged to be married it 
would be different, and Rodney would see that his 
chances were gone and would look in other 
directions.” 

Myra smiled and took her companion’s hand. 

“Evelyn, be just to me. After the original 
breach I only met Rodney at your request, and 
both before and after that second meeting Rod- 
ney has looked in other directions.” 

“Like the needle of a compass, wavering a little 
from side to side, but in the end always turning 
to the cold immovable north. And all the while 
you have been searching for your luckless victim 
and preparing to galvanize him. Do you expect 
to meet him at Wateracre, Myra?” 

“Who knows, Evelyn? You must wait until 
he is galvanized, I am not going to trail a suc- 
cession of failures in front of you.” 


THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE 263 

“And how does the process begin, Myra, dear? 
When you have found your ideal of apathy, how 
do you set about making him love you?” 

A very gentle sigh escaped Myra as she an- 
swered. 

“That is the problem which nearly all the world 
is trying to solve, all the men and all the married 
women and pretty young girls without money and 
middle-aged women without looks. If I knew the 
secret this earth would be a happy place and the 
rose-garden at Wateracre would not be marred 
by a single wistful expression. No, Evelyn,” she 
added with a laugh, “the wistful expression be- 
longs to me, and not to Rodney. Let me go my 
own wilful way, and let Rodney regard me as 
already dead or married and seek consolation 
elsewhere. And when we have gone our several 
ways you shall write my epitaph and his, and 
shall put into it that for the best part of one 
whole year Rodney remained more or less con- 
stant to one woman.” 

Hugo Fitzroy was walking through the rose- 
garden as she finished, a tennis-racquet in his 
hand, two sweaters and an overcoat on his arm. 

“I didn't catch the beginning of the sentence, 
Myra,” he remarked, “ but if Rodney has remained 
constant to one woman for the best part of a 
year, the credit is due to me.” He spread the 
overcoat carefully on the grass and lowered him- 
self gingerly to its level. “Last autumn for my 
sins I was kept in London, and as my club was 
closed and I did not feel disposed to billet myself 


264 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


on a strange club, I was driven each night to go 
and dine in restaurants. At the end of three 
weeks Rodney thought I was shadowing him; 
every night I went to a different place, and every 
night I ran into the arms of Rodney, dining and 
sparkling under the influence of a fresh pair of 
bright eyes. There seemed a fatality about the 
thing, so I sent for Rodney, showed him a large- 
scale map of London marked with red crosses, 
and impressed upon him that he was rapidly 
making our great metropolis uninhabitable and 
converting the capital of an empire into a reposi- 
tory for expiring romances.” 

Myra laughed. 

“Did it have any effect, Hugo?” 

“Not the slightest. I told him ne ought to 
take a long sea-voyage, and even recklessly 
offered to accompany him. He retaliated by 
producing a large-scale map of the world on Mer- 
cator’s Projection, also marked with red crosses 
to show the places he had once visited and did 
not choose — from motives of discretion — to visit 
again. Now I must go and dress.” 

“Is that story true, Hugo?” asked Myra as he 
gathered himself and his belongings from the 
grass. 

“Not a word of it. Cyril’s is the lying tongue 
that first gave it currency and I just adapted it 
for present requirements.” 

They sat for a few minutes in silence after he 
had gone, and then Evelyn asked : 

“Is that a new dress you’re wearing, Myra?” 


THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE 265 


“It's new to you, Evelyn, but I’ve had it for 
some time now. I got it for the ball Aunt Alice 
gave for me last spring and haven’t worn it since.” 

“It suits you very well, and the roses in your 
hair agree with it perfectly. William Allen 
Richardsons, aren’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did you wear them last spring, too?” 

“Yes, dear; not the same flowers, of course, 
but the same kind. And the necklace is the 
same. Let me go on reading your thoughts, 
Evelyn. This is the anniversary of the day I 
met Cyril, and I have spared no pains to present 
exactly the same appearance as I did that night. 
The first impressions are the ones men remember. 
I half thought of bending the catch of the neck- 
lace and making Cyril fasten it for me again. 
Yes, you’re right, Evelyn, I don’t think I shall 
ever grow up.” She laughed and pressed her 
hand. “And the tragedy of it is that it will have 
not the slightest effect on our unsentimental 
Cyril.” 

They were interrupted by the sound of a car 
drawing up at the front door. Mrs. Fitzroy 
walked round to the front of the house to welcome 
her guests, while Myra remained on alone among 
the roses. Then after ten minutes had passed 
she got up and wandered through the open library 
window; the latest arrivals had retired to dress, 
and she sat talking to Hugo until a familiar voice 
sounded in the hall. 

“Now then, Violet, in you go. Earl’s daughters 


266 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


take precedence of riff-raff like Enid and me. 
Vide Whitaker’s Almanack passim” The door 
opened and Lady Violet entered the room, fol- 
lowed by her two guardians appropriately walking 
arm-in-arm. In appearance Lady Violet had 
changed more than her companions during her 
six months’ absence from England. She seemed 
to have grown taller, older, and more self-pos- 
sessed. The slightly wistful expression was seen 
less often in her big blue eyes, and Mrs. Fitzroy 
mentally agreed that Cyril had been right in 
thinking companionship was what she most 
lacked when living with her father. The small 
features, delicate coloring, and abundant golden 
hair were the same as when she left England; 
and as she walked into the library, dressed through- 
out in white with a diamond star as her sole orna- 
ment, it was not difficult to see that Enid and 
Cyril looked with approval on the results of their 
half-year’s stewardship. Enid Sutherland showed 
no change of face or manner. The raven hair, 
pale face, and black, haunting eyes which had 
attracted Rodney’s butterfly attention at Oxford 
and had since come to disturb the peace of Mor- 
timer Forrest’s mind were the same as both Morty 
and Rodney remembered them in the autumn, 
and the slow unfathomable smile which had 
baffled Cyril so often throughout the years he 
had known her, continued from time to time to 
light up her face and expose to view her white 
regular teeth. 

The other guardian had evidently resolved that 


THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE 267 


his manner should conceal any change for better 
or worse that six months’ responsibility had 
wrought in his temperament. A babel of welcome 
and inquiries had arisen as they entered the room, 
and Cyril walked round from one guest to another, 
his dark eyes critically examining each one and 
a slightly ironical smile playing over his thin 
features. 

“ Blood being thicker than water,” he remarked, 
“I will first shake Hugo by the hand and tell 
him that his growing girth and thinning locks fill 
me with concern. I have four months in England, 
Hugo, and we must attend to your waist. As 
regards the hair, I have no advice to offer beyond 
telling you in general terms to recover your lost 
youth. Choose your own way. Whenever I am 
feeling old I go and order new underclothes; my 
hosier measures me and remarks, ‘ Slender gentle- 
man’s, sir,’ and the illusion of youth is restored. 
He will not make that remark to you, by the 
way. Morty, I am proud to be recognized by 
you. Your fame traveled to Paris, where we 
read accounts of the Fairlight Murder Case in the 
Pans edition of the Daily Mail . Has the verdict 
been given yet?” 

“Yes, it took the form of ‘guilty,’ followed by 
remarks about ‘hanging by the neck till dead.’ ” 

“Dear, dear! You — I think — were defending. 
Rodney, your eyes have the far-away look of one 
who searches for Ideals and finds them not. We 
found them without difficulty, not Perfection, 
but the Attempts at Perfection which you picked 


268 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


up and discarded in your search. The Near 
East is littered with your unreal passions. And 
Johnny! I have not seen you since your quest 
for strange emotions and new thrills carried you 
to the desert to live on dates and ride on a camel. 
The life of a Bedouin is overrated, I imagine, 
Johnny, or you would not have abandoned it 
so soon.” 

While he talked Mrs. Fitzroy had been marshal- 
ing her guests in preparation for dinner, and Cyril 
found that it had fallen to his lot to take in Myra. 

“This is just as it should be, Myra,” he re- 
marked. “It makes me at peace with the world 
to be back in England and to see you again. 
You’re looking simply charming to-night, just as 
I’ve pictured you looking during these last six 
weary months.” 

“ Le mot juste as usual, Cyril. Do you like this 
dress?” 

“I’ve never seen one that suited you better. 
Was it made specially for to-night? I shall have 
to check this reckless extravagance when we are 
married.” 

“Oh, I’ve had it some time now, but — it’s just 
been lying by in a drawer. Are you responsible 
for choosing Violet’s dress, or is Enid allowed to 
have a word in the matter?” 

“I drop the suggestions and Enid backs them 
up where practicable, with the present felicitous 
result. How do you think our ward is looking?” 

“She does credit to you both. Has it been 
very hard work, Cyril? Johnny was speculating 


THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE 269 

the other day how long you'd be able to support 
the strain. The early days must have been dread- 
ful, before you dropped into the habit of having 
to consider other people and subordinate your 
own convenience to theirs." 

“How little you know me, Myra! You would 
have been surprised and ashamed to see how 
their wills were bent to mine. I couldn’t have 
stood six months of it on other terms." 

“I shall check that story by the accounts I get 
from your fellow-travelers. Anyway, it’s nothing 
to boast of. You must remember you are on 
probation, Cyril; we are provisionally engaged 
pending the arrival of regeneration in your soul. 
Ten months have gone already." 

“Has the sign appeared?" 

“It’s too early to say yet." 

“When will you tell me?" 

“Perhaps at the end of the two years and 
perhaps before you go to bed to-night. I shall 
have to talk to Enid and Violet before venturing 
an opinion." She turned to look at him more 
closely. “There’s not much outward change yet, 
Cyril dear." 

“I am vexed to hear it. One is always told 
that people with beautiful souls show it in their 
faces, at least that is the accepted explanation 
for the unusual number of inordinately plain faces 
which one meets in a day’s march. I should 
like a beautiful soul even at the price of a trifling 
cast in the eye. Don’t you think I’ve changed 
at all, Myra?" 


270 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Oh, you have undoubtedly changed, but I 
sha’nt tell you yet awhile in what way.” 

“It is difficult for me to change for the worse; 
it is incredible that I should change for the bet- 
ter; if you insist that I have changed, Myra, 
you must tell me in what way.” 

“I am not thinking of better or worse. It 
may be that the sign has appeared and that you 
have learned to sacrifice yourself. You would 
call that a change for the better; I should call it 
— for myself — the honors of war without the fight 
I want to make. It may be that the infatuation 
of last July has become so strong that you want 
me to shorten the two years and absolve you from 
your self-imposed probation. Or it may be that 
you have outgrown the infatuation. Who knows? 
Now you are going to talk to Evelyn and I am 
going to talk to Morty.” 

Cyril obeyed her instructions better than she 
obeyed them herself. Mortimer Forrest was 
talking to Enid Sutherland and Myra was not 
sorry to sit silent and listen to the conversation 
around her. Lady Violet sat opposite and was 
giving John Stanford an account of her travels 
since their chance meeting in Egypt. Cyril's 
name occurred repeatedly in her description, the 
arrangements he had made, the trouble he had 
taken, the things they had seen and done at his 
suggestion, the books he had read to her, the eyes 
he had given her for seeing the places they had 
visited in the life and color that belonged to them 
when the world was young and history was still 
in the making. 


THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE 271 

“Cyril has set up such a high standard for 
cicerones,” said Johnny, “and made himself so 
indispensable to you, that you’ll never be able 
to travel without him.” 

“I came to that conclusion, Johnny, before we’d 
been away a week.” 

“And what happens when he goes on strike 
and clamors to get back to the Temple and the 
life of idleness?” 

“I shall have to give up going abroad,” she 
answered with great seriousness. 

Myra let her attention wander to the conversa- 
tion which Cyril was carrying on with Mrs. Fitz.- 
roy. In a tone of less enthusiasm and without 
her vivacity, Cyril was making a fair compliment 
to Violet. The terms of admiration and affection 
in which he spoke of her showed that the guardian- 
ship had been a labor of love. At the end of the 
meal she was able to get a few minutes’ conversa- 
tion with Enid Sutherland. 

“Well, Enid,” she said, “we have all been won- 
dering how you and your uncertain yoke-fellow 
would get on together. Did you find him a tract- 
able and willing worker?” 

“I had nothing to do but eat the manna which 
the Lord sent. Cyril arranged everything. Vio- 
let gave all the orders while I sat and basked in 
the sun. It carried me back to the days of the 
Arabian nights to hear our small friend Violet 
issuing her commands and to see our genius 
appearing out of a cloud of smoke, cigar in mouth, 
to do her bidding.” 


272 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“ Wasn’t it rather a revelation to you?” 

“No, I’d had glimpses of it before. If you 
cultivate the art of looking rather fragile and 
small and give him the impression that he’s the 
only person in the world you have to turn to, 
and always preface your requests with ‘Cyril 
dear, don’t you think we might . . .’or ‘ Cyril 

darling, would it be too much trouble . . .’ 

you would find him extraordinarily tractable. 
Violet discovered the secret a long time ago, 
though she doesn’t know it yet. Perhaps she will 
find out some day.” 

“Perhaps they will both find out some day, 
and then the genius will retire into his bottle and 
refuse to come out.” 

“I rather hope not. You see Cyril at his best 
when you see him with Violet.” Enid’s black 
eyes were fixed intently on Myra’s face. “Don’t 
you agree with me?” 

“I’ve hardly had an opportunity of seeing them 
together as yet, but I should think you are prob- 
ably right.” 

They were interrupted by the entrance of the 
men from the dining-room, and conversation 
ranged round general subjects until Mrs. Fitzroy 
suggested a movement in the direction of bed. 
As Myra said good-night to Cyril he repeated the 
question he had put at dinner. 

“Well, Myra, is the change for better or worse?” 

“I can’t add anything yet, Cyril, to what I 
told you before. There is a change, but you 
don’t know what it is, and until the two years 


THE MELLOWING INFLUENCE 273 


are over I sha’nt tell you. You will probably 
know as much as I do in fourteen months’ time.” 
Then she went upstairs, calling in at Mrs. Fitz- 
roy’s room on the way to her own. 

“ Evelyn, the maid Cyril’s engaged for Violet 
hasn’t arrived yet, so I’ve sent mine to attend to 
her. Will you undo this dress for me?” 

“I will, dear. Did it have the desired effect 
of recalling to Cyril’s mind the night when you 
first laid yourself out to convert a happy bachelor 
into a reluctant lover?” 

By way of answer Myra threw her arms round 
Mrs. Fitzroy’s neck and laid her cheek against 
her own. 

“ Don’t tease me to-night, Evelyn dear,” she 
said, with a little tremor in her voice, “I’m not 
sure that I can bear it.” 

“Myra darling, I wouldn’t hurt you for the 
world. What is the matter, dear? Don’t cry.” 

“I’m not crying.” She threw her head back 
to uncover her face and prove the truth of her 
words. A smile struggled to make its way 
through the troubled expression of her face. 

“I’m only just a little bit tired— and unhappy,” 
she added. 


18 


CHAPTER XVI 


AFTER THE LAPSE OF A YEAR 

“Quis te redonavit Quiritem 
Dis patriis Italogue caelo?” — Horace. 


TE’LL give him another five minutes, 
\/\/ Morty, and if he hasn’t come then we 
▼ V won’t wait dinner for him.” 

Hugo Fitzroy wandered disconso- 
lately to the steps of the Cynics’ Club and then 
rejoined Mortimer Forrest by the tape-machine. 

“It wouldn’t be Everard if he were in time for 
a meal, and, as Frobisher once remarked when 
an Indian student turned up late for one of his 
lectures, ‘We must remember the gentleman has 
had some distance to come.’ However, here is 
our friend in person. How are you, Everard? 
Two years have dealt kindly with you.” 

“How are you, my dear boy? Ah, Morty, 
and how are you? I hope I’m not late. Let’s 
go in and start dinner at once. I’ve almost for- 
gotten what club cooking is like.” 

“We’ve almost forgotten what the gay eupeptic 
Everard looks like,” said Mortimer; “we thought 
you were never coming home.” 

“I don’t quite know why I have.” Everard 
274 


AFTER THE LAPSE OF A YEAR 275 


led the way into the coffee-room. “I went away 
because I was bored with England and I stayed 
away twice as long as I intended because I saw 
no reason why England should not bore me again 
if I returned. And now that I am back again, 
I don't know of anything to keep me here. It 
was quite pathetic at Marseilles to see my fellow- 
passengers hurling themselves into the black hole 
of the Wagon-Lit to get to England four days 
before the boat. I sat on deck and grew wist- 
fully sentimental about myself and the lonely 
life I was leading, with nobody to love me, nobody 
to hurry home for." He spoke with eminent 
cheerfulness and attacked a dish of plovers' eggs 
with undisguised enthusiasm. 

“Well, Morty and I will do the best we can 
to show you how we appreciate you and how much 
we've missed you. I tried to get Cyril here, but 
he doesn't get to London till to-morrow." 

“And how is our Cyril shaping as a nurse-maid- 
in-ordinary? Darlington mentioned the thing 
to me in jest before I sailed, but when I heard 
it had actually been done, you might have knocked 
me down with a feather, as domestic servants say 
in moments of strong emotion." 

“It seems to have worked very well," said 
Mortimer, “but we've seen almost as little of 
him as you have these last two years. Let me 
see, you went away in June two years ago. That 
autumn he went abroad and didn’t return till 
last May. Then we caught occasional glimpses 
of him for about four months in the summer, 


276 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


and this last autumn they went off again and are 
returning to-morrow.” 

“I rather gather that I am going to meet them 
later on in the week. Cyril told me he had 
accepted an invitation on my behalf to a party 
which Lady Delaunay is giving at her place. 
I don’t in the least want to go, but Cyril has done 
such good work in choosing me a flat, engaging 
me a man, paying my bills, and dealing with my 
correspondence that I feel I can’t do less than 
come and see his protegee.” 

“ You’ll meet us all there,” said Hugo, “Morty 
and Rodney and John Stanford and others. Lady 
Delaunay is giving a small coming-out dance for 
Lady Violet.” 

“A coming-out dance! How old is the fair 
Lady Violet?” 

“Just on eighteen, I think.” 

“And how old is Cyril?” 

“Twenty-five.” 

“A little young to be guardian to a ward of 
eighteen! Have they been traveling about alone 
all this time?” 

“Oh, no. There’s been the other guardian, 
Mrs. Sutherland, to give an air of propriety to the 
party.” 

“Mrs. Sutherland? Ah — -yes- — I remember her; 
a very pretty, slight girl with a pale face and 
very black hair and eyes. Cyril’s been traveling 
under pleasant conditions.” 

“I’m glad you should think that, because 
Morty is engaged to Mrs. Sutherland and is going 


AFTER THE LAPSE OF A YEAR 277 

to marry her as soon as she is released from the 
trust.” 

“My dear Morty, I congratulate you. I am 
always glad to hear of other people marrying, it 
diverts attention from myself. Is anybody else 
taking the same courageous step?” 

“Not that I know of; you will have to turn 
your attention to Cyril now that you're back in 
England.” 

“Almost the last words I spoke before sailing 
to India two years ago contained an exhortation 
to Cyril to get married. I drew a striking moral 
from my own life and urged him not to allow a 
second generation to commit the folly I've com- 
mitted of letting the golden moment slip. I 
meant it, too, and Cyril saw I meant it.” 

“He's been so busy looking after Violet that 
he's had no time to think of anything else. I tell 
you, Everard, you will find him a different man. 
He's given up his quarters at the Temple, we 
hardly see him at the club, and every moment 
of his life is devoted to Violet's education. He 
wants to make her absolutely perfect, and their 
wanderings through Europe have been with that 
object. He's just wound up with a course of 
instruction from some maestro of the musical 
world in Brussels and the finished article is brought 
down to Lady Delaunay's to-morrow, to be ad- 
mired of all men.” 

• “I should imagine it's a wearing experience for 
the ward. I hope Cyril will not turn his attention 
to me when he’s released from this trust and is 


278 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


looking for fresh worlds to conquer. How does 
Lady Violet stand the strain?” 

“She looks on Cyril as an inspired being from 
another world/’ said Mortimer, “and Cyril repays 
the compliment. To anyone but a fat cynic like 
Hugo it would be rather a charming idyll.” 

“And meantime what has happened to that 
pretty niece of Lady Delaunay’s? I’ve forgotten 
her name, but Cyril was hand in glove with her 
before I went away and I had hopes of seeing a 
match being made.” 

“You mean Myra Woodbridge?” 

“That’s the girl. Has anything come of it, 
or is she merely one of Cyril’s numerous romantic 
memories?” 

“Heaven only knows! For two years every- 
body’s been trying to fathom that business and 
at the end of the time we’re none of us the wiser. 
She and Cyril seemed to be wrapped up in each 
other when first they met and Morty and I began 
looking up the price of inexpensive wedding 
presents. Then Cyril went away with Violet 
and Mrs. Sutherland, and no one knows how they 
stand at present.” 

“What’s happened to the girl, Miss Wood- 
bridge? I suppose she’s consoled herself for the 
loss of Cyril by seeking someone else?” 

“No. She meets Cyril in a free and unembar- 
rassed manner when he’s in England. They’re 
great friends, and I sometimes harbor the idea 
that they’re engaged. I know Myra wears a ring 
which Cyril gave her, but she wears it on the 
wrong hand, so that that is inconclusive.” 


AFTER THE LAPSE OF A YEAR 279 

“ And Evelyn always says they’re not engaged,” 
added Hugo; “they certainly don’t behave as 
if they were, and I know Evelyn keeps a vigilant 
eye on Myra in Rodney’s interest.” 

“How does Rodney come into it?” 

“Oh, Evelyn’s been trying to make a match 
between Myra and Rodney for years. I don’t 
know if Rodney is jibbing or whether it’s Myra, 
but so far nothing’s come of it, and Rodney is 
becoming rather a melancholy type of the Oxford 
don. He’s given up trying to find consolation 
and to anyone who knows the size of Rodney’s 
heart that is serious news.” 

“Well, well!” Everard pulled his chair in to 
the table to get a better purchase on the cheese. 
“You young men don’t seem to have made much 
history in my absence. Morty is committing 
marriage and Cyril is turning into a useful member 
of society, those seem to be the only changes. 
Everyone else is two years older and two years 
fatter and two years balder. Rodney is becoming 
joyless and narrow-minded behind his convent 
wall, Miss Woodbridge (don’t tell her I said so) 
is like the ass between two or more bundles of 
hay. Hugo is becoming a confirmed bachelor, 
unrepentant and unwarned by my example, and 
I am very much as you last saw me, only a shade 
more restless and a trifle more easily bored. Is 
that a fair summary of the position?” 

“I think it is.” Hugo arrested a passing waiter 
and sent him in search of port wine. “And if 
you went away to-morrow for another two years 


280 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


you would find equally little change at the end 
of the time. Hardly a death to brighten the 
annals of the family. You’d better turn your 
time in England to good account, Everard, by 
making a little history on your own account. 
Marriage is always near your heart, and you have 
yourself, myself, Cyril, Rodney, and Johnny all 
ready at hand.” 

“Well, it’s unpromising material, but I’ll see 
what can be done. First of all I want to renew 
my acquaintance with Cyril and the wonderful 
ward and the future Mrs. Mortimer Forrest.” 

“I’m afraid you won’t see her for a few weeks, 
Everard,” said Morty. “Partnership has been 
temporarily dissolved at Brussels. Enid has gone 
south to stay for a few days with friends at 
Frankfurt, and Cyril is bringing Violet over 
single-handed. Lady Delaunay is taking charge 
of her till Enid’s return.” 

“Then I must teach my restive spirit patience 
till that day. This is very fair port, Hugo, doubly 
acceptable after the wine of Samaria I have been 
drinking on board.” 

“And what precisely is wine of Samaria?” 
asked Mortimer as they rose from the table. 

“Wine which is made to be mixed with oil and 
poured into the wounds of such as go down from 
Jerusalem to Jericho and fall among thieves by 
the way. Now let’s come and get something to 
smoke.” 

The following afternoon saw Everard comfort- 
ably established at Delaunay Towers. With 


AFTER THE LAPSE OF A YEAR 281 


the well-developed instinct of self-preservation 
which characterized the Fitzroys he had secured 
to himself the shadiest tree, the roomiest chair, 
and the company of Myra Woodbridge, the best- 
looking girl of the party. John Stanford had 
joined them, bringing with him a suitable supply 
of cigarettes, and for Everard, eyeglass in eye and 
hands locked across his substantial form, there 
seemed nothing lacking in the surroundings which 
conduce to contentment. 

“I was dining with Hugo and young Morty 
Forrest last night,” he observed, “and to the best 
of their ability they justified their existence during 
the past two years. It was rather a lamentable 
chronicle; I hope you’ve got something better 
to show for it, Johnny.” 

“I have no reason to be dissatisfied with my 
life, Mr. Fitzroy. It has been perfectly success- 
ful since last we met.” 

“I suppose that means the Samurai have been 
increasing and multiplying?” 

“The Samurai? Oh, that thing of Darlington’s; 
no, I was not meaning that.” 

“That thing of Darlington’s! It is no way 
to speak of an important movement in the direc- 
tion of social reform, a movement which was 
receiving your prominent support two years 
ago.” 

“It has served its purpose; it supplied me with 
a new experience, a new emotion. There was a 
fine crusading spirit about it which appealed to 
me at the time; then when I had drunk my fill 
I moved on to new waters.” 


282 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“And where did they take you?” 

“To Armenia, to Italy, and the Desert. I 
made a round of the most accessible religions, 
spending six months in an Armenian monastery 
of the Orthodox Church, three months in an Italian 
village, going daily to Mass and confessing 
regularly, and ending up with four months on 
the fringe of the Sahara. I met Cyril as I was 
setting out, and our meeting was like the meeting 
of Richard Burton and his anonymous friend in 
the mosque at Mecca. You remember the story? 
Burton impenetrably disguised, as he thought, 
worshipping nineteen to the dozen, and hoping no 
friendly Mussulman would detect him as an infidel 
and put a knife in his back, and the voice of an 
anonymous friend behind him remarking in bell- 
like tones, ‘ Rather different this, Burton, from 
the Fifth Form at Charterhouse.’ So with me. 
I was riding along on a camel trying to induce the 
frame of mind proper to a devout Bedouin when 
I heard the languid voice of Cyril saying, ‘For 
the love of Allah, take off those deplorable clothes, 
Johnny.’ ” 

Everard laughed. “Do you really do these 
things, and do they really give you any new sen- 
sations worth having?” 

“Undoubtedly, Mr. Fitzroy. I don’t think you 
appreciate the effect of clothes on character. 
I always wear black when I’m feeling depressed; 
it was a lesson learned from Cyril, who always 
uses mourning note-paper when he’s not feeling 
at his best. If you go into the right surroundings, 


AFTER THE LAPSE OF A YEAR 283 


breathe the proper atmosphere and wear the 
appropriate clothes, you become a part of every 
place you visit, you live the life of a dozen different 
nationalities and faiths, and compress a score of 
different existences into one.” 

“ ‘In Rome do as the Romans do?’ ” 

“Exactly, which is the one thing the average 
Englishman never does in Rome. He stays at an 
English hotel, races round with an English- 
speaking guide, improves his mind on the New 
York Herald (Paris edition) and the novels of 
the Tauchnitz library, wears only English clothes, 
eats only English food, and returns home as quickly 
as possible to spend the rest of his days comparing 
Italy and England, ancient civilization and mod- 
ern, in a manner highly favorable to the land which 
has had the honor of giving him birth.” 

“Which method of travel does Cyril adopt, 
Johnny,” asked Myra, “the average tourist’s or 
the Stanford specialty?” 

“I’m not sure, Myra. In the old days before 
the regeneration of Cyril he was never tired of 
reviling my search for new emotions. We used 
to argue about it till the stars disappeared and 
the morning sun struggled to penetrate the to- 
bacco smoke. I told him life was only worth 
living to the extent to which you saw it as a 
whole, every aspect, every way of life, every 
phase of faith. I told him you could only see 
life in that way by clutching at every new expe- 
rience that floated within your reach and by 
going out of your way to taste of new emotions 


284 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


and drag them into your life with both hands. 
Modern existence is so easy and mechanical and 
comfortable that it has lost all its color, all its 
danger and romance, and my way was the way 
to bring it all back again.” 

“I can almost hear Cyril’s answer.” Myra 
laughed and passed Everard a fresh cigarette. 
“He lay back in his chair with half-closed eyes, 
cigar in mouth, stroking that huge black cat of 
his and talking about the spurious revival of the 
Byronic Cult.” 

“Yes, he told me I should have to die of fever 
at Missolonghi.” 

“I thought so. And then a long attack on the 
unwisdom of cultivating one’s emotions, emotions 
as good servants and bad masters, detached and 
sexless intellect as the only thing in life worth 
fostering, and a peroration, the usual peroration, 
exhorting you to follow his example, keep your- 
self unspotted from the ways of men, leave them 
to solve the troubles of their own making, and live 
like him in a rarified atmosphere where love and 
hate and human interests have no part.” 

“I seem to have heard that homily from Cyril 
before now,” assented Everard. 

“We have all heard it,” said Johnny, “and 
such of us as have a sense of irony are amused 
to see the way in which practice has fallen short 
of precept. Cyril as Lady Violet’s guardian is a 
sad falling away from Cyril living unspotted from 
the ways of men and leaving them to solve the 
troubles of their own making. He should have 
followed my example,” he added, with a smile. 


AFTER THE LAPSE OF A YEAR 285 


“ I am glad to find someone who is satisfied with 
the life he has been leading while I have been 
away,” said Everard. “I had rather a gloomy 
account from Morty Forrest last night. He 
excepted himself; two years ago he set out to 
find a wife who would bring inspiration to his 
work and he claims to have found her, but Hugo, 
Rodney, Cyril, and the rest he wrote down as 
failures. What of yourself, Miss Woodbridge? 
Have you managed to realize the ideal of life 
which you set before your eyes, or didn’t you 
bother about ideals two years ago?” 

“I don’t know that a girl has much scope for 
ideals of life, Mr. Fitzroy. She occupies a 
secondary place and has to fit in to the ideals 
which others make for her. That is her poor, 
limited function.” 

“No, her function is higher.” Everard was 
gazing with frank admiration into the unwaver- 
ing brown eyes before him. “The gods have set 
apart a man and ordained that she shall come 
into his life like a gospel giving tidings of a new 
heaven and a new earth.” 

“And have the gods shown her how to find 
him, have they marked him out from his fellows?” 

“There is no need. She knows without the 
help of the gods that there is one for whom she 
would sacrifice everything in the world.” 

“And does he always know it?” 

“If he does not it is her business to teach him.” 

“And how does she set about that?” 

“Miss Woodbridge, that is the secret of your 
sex.” 


286 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“A secret which very few of my sex have 
mastered. Johnny, be a polite boy and bring 
up another chair for my aunt. Aunt Alice, you 
have missed the most improving words I have 
ever heard spoken by a member of the Fitzroy 
family.” 

“Everard, your travels have unbalanced you.” 
Lady Delaunay took the chair which Johnny 
had fetched her. “You mustn’t take risks with 
yourself. What were the improving words?” 

“ Merely a highly poetical treatment of the idea 
that in marriage man plays a minor part, and 
that in every one of the early stages up to and 
including the proposal he is acting under the 
hypnotic suggestion of the woman.” 

“That is rather a prosaic and chilling inter- 
pretation of your original rhapsody, Mr. Fitz- 
roy,” said Johnny. 

“It is, my boy, but you will find it a useful 
retort in the altercations of married life to say 
that you were married in a cataleptic condition.” 

As he was speaking a footman approached Lady 
Delaunay and handed her a telegram. She put 
on her glasses to read it, remarking: “I do hope 
this doesn’t mean that some of my most cherished 
guests are going to play me false. Oh, how 
dreadful!” 

She handed the flimsy paper over to Myra; it 
was from Cyril: 

“Regret unable to come. Violet indisposed. 
Farraday fears diphtheria. No immediate cause 
for anxiety. Cyril.” 


AFTER THE LAPSE OF A YEAR 287 


u ‘No immediate cause for anxiety/ ” com- 
mented Johnny. “I hope that is true.” 

“It's too early to say yet, it hasn't had time 
to get critical, let alone the after-effects.” Lady 
Delaunay had lost a son through diphtheria. 
“And I suppose, with Enid in Germany, poor 
Cyril has got to deal with it single-handed. I 
wish I knew how I could help him.” 

“He's got the best possible man in Farraday, 
Lady Delaunay,” said Everard. “I'm afraid 
there's nothing for it but to sit still and hope for 
better news. By the way, I'm going back to town 
to-morrow morning; you won't want a super- 
fluous house-party to amuse while you've got this 
trouble on hand.” 

In the course of the next two days the house- 
party had broken up and gone its several ways. 
Rodney alone stayed on, at the special request 
of Myra. 

“I shall want somebody to talk to, Rodney,” 
she said, when he suggested leaving. “If we 
don’t get any fresh news to-morrow I shall go 
up to London and inquire at the house how she 
is. Will you come with me and cheer me up, 
Rodney? I know I'm rather distracted and 
helpless,” she added, with an apologetic smile, 
“but I can't help feeling that Cyril is keeping 
something back and that he would have told us 
by now if she were going on all right. Poor 
Cyril! If anything happened to Violet I simply 
don't know what he would do.” 

“Don't let’s meet trouble half way, Myra. 


288 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


Violet has got science and youth and a sound 
constitution all fighting on her side; she’ll pull 
through, I haven’t the slightest doubt.” 

“And what about Cyril?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t even thinking of him. If we 
know our Cyril we can trust him to take all 
ordinary precautions and not to run his head 
into danger.” 

“Yes, I suppose so.” Myra spoke without 
conviction. “If we know our Cyril. I’m not 
sure that I do.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


INSTANCE OF VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 

“ And if the wine you drink, the lips you press, 

End in the Nothing all things end in, Yes, 

Then fancy while thou art, thou art but what 
Thou shalt be, Nothing. Thou shalt not be less!” 

— Omar Khayyam. 

T WO days later Myra Woodbridge arrived in 
town alone. Rodney had been unable to 
absent himself any longer from his duties 
in Oxford, and Myra had not thought fit 
to tell Lady Delaunay the object of her journey for 
fear of alarming her aunt, who was nervous on the 
subject of infectious diseases, and might quite 
possibly place a veto on the whole proceeding. 
She drove from the station to Charles Street and 
inquired for Cyril. The footman told her Mr. 
Fitzroy had gone off earlier in the afternoon to 
his club — the Cynics’ Club — and was not expected 
back in Charles Street till after dinner. Wonder- 
ing a little that Cyril should be ready to abandon 
his post of duty for so many hours on end, Myra 
crossed the corner of St. James’s Square on foot 
and was mounting the steps of the club when 
she was nearly knocked down by Mortimer For- 
rest, who was hurrying into the street with a 
handful of papers in search of a taxi. 

289 


19 


290 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Morty, is Cyril inside here?” she asked. 

“He is, I’ve been talking to him. I say, that 
poor child seems pretty bad.” 

“I called at Charles Street to inquire, but they 
told me Cyril was at the club, and as Lm never 
very trustful of a bulletin issued by a footman, 
I thought Ed make him come out of hiding and 
tell me with his own lips how she was.” 

“You’d better approach the subject delicately, 
I think Cyril’s nerves are rather on the raw. 
I turned up here for lunch, and he was sitting in 
the morning-room with his hat on, staring out 
of the window. Nobody’d seen him for six 
months, and it was like the dying Alexander and 
his generals filing sadly and silently through his 
tent. Everyone wanted to know how he was 
and if he was lunching, and how the patient was 
getting on, till Cyril was nearly ready to throw 
his stick at them. I talked to him on general 
topics after lunch; he didn’t mention Violet, and 
I thought better not to allude to her. I’ll go in 
and tell him you’re here.” He went back into the 
club and reappeared two minutes later with Cyril. 
“Now I must say good-bye, Myra; I’m due at 
Chambers for a consultation.” He hurried off, 
leaving Myra and Cyril on the steps of the club. 

“Well, Myra, it is very kind of you to come 
and hunt me out like this. I was just feeling 
that another five minutes of my fellow-members 
would send me flying down the street with straw 
in my hair. Let me have a good look at you, 
dear; I’ve not seen you for nearly seven ^months. 


VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 


291 


No, there’s no change, you’re not a day older 
than when I first met you two years ago. Come 
into the park, where we can sit and talk and 
smoke in peace.” 

They turned to the right, down the Duke of 
York’s steps, crossed the Mall, and found two 
chairs in a secluded part of the park. Cyril 
produced a cigar-case from his pocket, selected a 
cigar and with great deliberation cut and lit it. 
Myra had an opportunity of studying his face in 
the process. He was looking rather thinner and 
paler than usual, his dark eyes under their long 
lashes were a trifle more weary, and the lines 
from nose to mouth were slightly harder than she 
had seen them before. So far as she could make 
out he was cultivating an air of elaborate self- 
possession; the immaculate appearance of his 
clothes, the flower in his buttonhole, and his col- 
lected, dispassionate manner of speech gave an 
effect of rather studied nonchalance. Remember- 
ing Mortimer Forrest’s warning, she waited for 
him to broach the subject of her presence in 
London. 

“Well, Myra,” he remarked, when the cigar 
was lit, “I am afraid between us Violet and I 
have rather spoiled your aunt’s party. I was 
very sorry about it; we both looked forward to 
coming. You will have to make our apologies 
when you see her. How soon are you going 
down to the country again?” 

“I think I shall have to go back to-night. 
She doesn’t know where I am. I only told her 
I was running up to town for the day.” 


292 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Either you ought not to have come or you 
ought not to be going back so soon. For those 
who can appreciate it, the country in May is a 
thing one should never want to leave; having left 
it and successfully established oneself in London, 
nothing should tear one away. It argues rest- 
lessness: ‘when a man is tired of London, he 
is tired of life/ as Dr. Johnson remarked, not 
knowing that to the female mind London only 
conjures up a picture of milliners’ shops.” 

“I didn’t come up to shop, Cyril.” 

“No, you came up to see me, Myra, but you 
shouldn’t have made me drag the admission from 
you.” 

“Yes, I came to see you and to ask after Violet. 
I felt so sorry for you, Cyril, all alone, without 
Enid to share the burden, and I wondered if I 
could be any help to you.” 

“I don’t think so, Myra, though it’s very kind 
of you to offer. The chances are about ten to one 
against Violet living, she’s in a critical condition, 
and the big final struggle will probably come 
to-night.” 

“My God!” There was a sinking at her heart 
as she listened to him. “Can nothing be done, 
Cyril?” 

“As regards Violet, no. As regards ourselves, 
yes. If the one chance comes off, well, it’s a 
point gained. If, as I expect, the nine chances 
are too much for her, we had better make up our 
minds to face it. I have made mine up. That 
was what annoyed me so at the club, to see a 


VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 


293 


succession of men with long faces coming up and 
asking in hushed voices how Violet was. I never 
knew there was so much misdirected sympathy 
in the world, and as usual it was all with the 
kindest and best intentions.” 

“Oh, Cyril, for pity's sake don't talk like that 
when she's lying fighting for her life and suffering 
heaven only knows what pain.'' 

“Pain!” He shivered a little. “That's the 
one thing we have never been able to explain 
away. We've explained love and hate and fear 
and death and God and hell, explained them so 
well that they have ceased to exist for some of 
us, but we've never been able to explain away 
pain.” 

“We have never explained away death.” 

“We have laughed it out of court. When 
death was the dividing line between this world 
and an unknown existence, a dark, joyless exist- 
ence maybe, or a time of trial and punishment, 
anyway an existence of uncertainty, we were 
afraid of stepping into the darkness. Now we 
believe, some of us at least, that at death we 
pass out of existence in a dreamless, never-ending 
sleep. That prospect cannot frighten us, Myra, 
that is the way in which we beat death.” 

“Our own death, yes, if we believe in the dream- 
less, eternal sleep, but not the death of others. 
It might comfort us to know that Violet was 
sleeping peacefully and painlessly, but it wouldn’t 
compensate us for our own loss. We haven't 
learned to explain away the loss of those we love, 
Cyril.” 


294 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“The philosophers have. They have reduced 
these losses to their right proportions, set them in 
their proper perspective. In fifty years’ time, 
when I am seventy-five and my sons are past 
middle-life, they will remember the story I tell 
them about Violet, and will explain that I stood 
guardian to her, when strangers ask questions 
about the portrait or this miniature. They will 
have no pangs in speaking of her, and I — well, 
Myra, it is rather wasted energy crying over a 
person who is dead. It doesn’t bring them back, 
and the philosopher learns to husband his tears 
for the living, to work on their feelings when 
every other means has failed. And in a hundred 
years’ time, what will be remembered of Violet 
by my grandsons? No, Myra, you must thank 
the philosophers for reducing us to a sense of our 
own insignificance.” 

“That is the old argument of two years ago, 
Cyril. I thought you had outgrown it.” 

“Two years have only shown how right I was. 
I have been amazed at my own precocious wis- 
dom. 


‘Laudo manentem. Si celeres quatit 
Pennas, resolvo quae dedit et mea 
Virtute me involvo probamque 
Pauperiem sine dote quaere.’ 


Did they teach you Horace at Wycombe Abbey, 
Myra?” 

“No. I don’t think I was sufficient of a phi- 
losopher to stand it. They gave me Herodotus 


VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 


295 


to read,” she added as an afterthought, “not in 
the Greek, though. I acknowledge my in- 
feriority.” 

“And what brings Herodotus to your mind?” 

“I was thinking of the marriage of Cleisthenes’ 
daughter, and the behavior of the suitor Hippo- 
clides who stood on his head on the table and 
waved his feet in the air. And I was thinking 
of Cleisthenes’ remark: ‘Son of Tisander, thou 
hast danced thy wife away/ ” 

“And of Hippoclides’ retort? ‘Devil a bit does 
Hippoclides care/ What bearing has that on 
the present case?” 

“You are arguing and explaining away your 
wife, Cyril. If you can talk so calmly of Violet’s 
death, you will talk as calmly of anyone’s death, 
mine for instance. And if in fifty or a hundred 
years’ time we have all settled down to our proper 
perspective, posterity will say that it didn’t much 
matter that Myra and Cyril never married. 
I cannot support life on the amount of affection 
which a dispassionate posterity may mete out as 
my due.” 

“No, you have leagued yourself with the gen- 
eration that asks a sign. How strange it is to 
look back two years, and how gratifying to one’s 
self-esteem to see that oneself was right and every- 
one else was wrong! Two years ago you would 
have married me in my unregenerate condition. 
I told you then what you now admit, that mar- 
riage is insupportable if the parties to it are not 
prepared to abandon their philosophy of detach- 


296 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


ment and sacrifice themselves to their partners. 
We are both of us still waiting, Myra, for the 
Ethiopian to change his skin, and you now agree 
that the old skin was impossible for everyday 
family life.” He pushed his hat to the back of 
his head and began tracing patterns in the gravel 
with his stick. “And Everard, too. He should 
be here to see my words justifying themselves. 
I told Everard down at Anstruther that the only 
way to secure peace of mind was to isolate one- 
self from one’s fellows and avoid contamination 
with their troubles. Like you, Everard held the 
view that that was shutting out from life all that 
made life endurable. The Anstruther Trust has 
shown who was right; we haven’t time or strength 
in this world to carry other people’s crosses, Myra. 
I had quite a struggle to argue myself back into 
the old attitude of detachment. And Johnny 
should have been here.” His voice lost a little 
of its self-command and he dug savagely at the 
gravel. “The last few days would have given 
Johnny psychologic conditions and new emotions 
to last him the term of his natural life. He would 
have learned a lot. It took God the best part 
of a day— according to Genesis — to create a man. 
Johnny would have found that when a man has 
his nervous system properly thrown out of gear 
he can create a god in half the time.” 

Myra sat listening to him in silence. In spite 
of his aggressive repudiation of all sympathy, she 
felt that the one thing he wanted above all others 
was a hearer in whose presence he might com- 


VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 


297 


pensate himself for the lonely and wordless anxiety 
of the last few days. She had been shocked at 
first by the lack of feeling he had displayed in 
speaking of Violet’s illness and the philosophic 
calm with which he faced the possibility of her 
death, and a touch of resentment had betrayed 
itself in her voice. Perhaps Cyril noticed this, for 
his tone was more conciliatory when he began 
to speak again. 

“Well, Myra, as a matter of form I suppose 
I ought to be getting back to Charles Street. 
Don’t pass sentence on me yet or say that Hippo- 
elides has talked away his bride. I’ve had enough 
on my mind without that, and in any case there 
are two months to run before my probation is 
made up and I come for your final decision. 
I don’t honestly see many signs of amelioration 
and you probably don’t either, and I’m afraid my 
conversation this afternoon has thrust me back 
to where I stood when the probation started. 
Never mind; you can be philosophic about death 
and yet get a good deal of enjoyment out of life. 
When I am dead it wouldn’t bring me back or 
make my torments lighter to know that you were 
wearing widow’s weeds. I should want you to 
console yourself for my lamented decease in the 
best and quickest fashion you know. And you 
might find that I could be very calm and collected 
about your death and yet lavish on you all the 
little store of affection at my command during 
your lifetime.” 

They walked back to Charles Street and parted 


298 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


at Lord Darlington’s door. Cyril, who had been 
forbidden by the doctor to approach the sick- 
room, wandered into the library to read and 
smoke. At intervals came callers with inquiries, 
but he would not see them, and at intervals Lady 
Violet’s maid appeared with a laden tray. Sir 
James Farraday called in later in the evening to 
report that no change had taken place in his 
patient’s condition, and then night fell. Cyril 
was disinclined for bed and paced up and down 
the library lost in thought. How long this con- 
tinued he never knew, but it was with a shock 
that he came out of his reverie to find the light of 
another day waning and to hear a knock at the 
door breaking the long silence of the library. It 
was Lady Violet’s maid. 

“I came to see if I might bring you something 
to eat, sir,” she said, not for the first time. Cyril 
ceased his perambulation and looked at her a 
little dizzily before replying. The air was heavy 
with the scent of innumerable strong cigars, the 
carpet covered with a film of white ash. In the 
middle of the room stood a round table showing 
traces of a succession of untasted meals which 
the perplexed maid had not ventured to clear 
away. They ranged from eggs, toast, and a 
coffee-pot by way of homard au gratin, asparagus 
and Camembert cheese, to a teapot and plate of 
thinly cut bread and butter. A solitary cup with 
the dregs of black coffee in it stood isolated on the 
mantelpiece and bore testimony to his success 
in taking nourishment. Cyril looked at the table 
and smiled a little grimly. 


VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 299 

“I’m afraid it’s not much use, Mary. I some- 
how don’t seem hungry.” 

“ You’ve had nothing all day, sir.” 

“ Haven’t I? Oh, surely I must have! What’s 
the time now?” 

“Nine o’clock, sir. Shall I draw the curtains?” 

“No. Yes. Just as you like, Mary. Yes, do 
please, and turn on the lights. Has the doctor 
come back yet?” 

“Yes, sir, he came back about an hour ago.” 

“Is he still with Lady Violet?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well, don’t let him go without my seeing him.” 

“Very good, sir.” 

The door closed and Cyril resumed his inter- 
rupted pacing. Once he paused, picked up a pipe 
and blew down it. It was choked up. He seemed 
to remember that he had tried the same thing 
with the same result that day, or the previous 
night, or the day before, or some time — he could 
not say when. Anyway it did not matter, only 
it was annoying to lose count of time like this. 
He took a cigar from a box by the window, put 
it into his mouth and wondered why it would not 
light. Then he remembered that he had not 
cut it, and when this had been successfully accom- 
plished he replaced it in his mouth. Nearly half 
an hour had elapsed before he noticed that it 
was still unlit. He was trying to recollect where 
he had last seen any matches, when the door 
opened and Sir James Farraday entered the 
library. Cyril braced himself for a concentrated 


300 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


effort of attention, and was relieved — albeit some- 
what surprised — to find that under pressure he 
could still get his brain to do his bidding. 

“What is the news, Sir James?” he asked. 

“None of the best, I fear, Mr. Fitzroy. I am 
afraid she has not rallied since I was here before.” 

“Is she any worse, or just stationary?” 

“Worse, I am afraid.” The doctor’s voice 
was very grave, and Cyril drew himself up and 
looked him full in the face to receive the blow. 

“You had better tell me whatever there is to 
tell, Sir James. I shall have to know it some time 
and I may as well know it now.” 

“Then I must tell you that I do not think she 
can last another hour. I don’t know if you are 
at all familiar with diphtheria, Mr. Fitzroy, but 
there are two dangers which the patient has to 
face: one is general collapse, which may carry 
her off in a very short space of time; the other is 
the spreading of the false membrane into the air- 
passages of the throat, causing asphyxiation. I 
am afraid the false membrane is getting the better 
of us.” 

“Nothing can be done?” His voice was quite 
mechanical. 

“Nothing more.” 

“Don’t they sometimes put in a tube and suck 
the false membrane, or whatever it is, away? 
I’ve read about it somewhere.” 

“It is sometimes done, but I cannot take the 
responsibility of recommending it.” 

“Why not?” 


VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 


301 


The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 

“The risk is too great. There is a chance that 
you may save the patient, but you are running 
the risk of the patient dying after infecting the 
other and endangering his life. In Lady Violet's 
case, even if the membrane were withdrawn from 
the air-passages, I am not sure that we should 
be able to keep her strength up." 

“Two probables against one certain?" 

“Exactly." 

“And is there the slightest hope of it's doing 
any good in the present case?" 

“It might, though; as I said before, I cannot 
take the responsibility of recommending such a 
course. It is just a chance." 

“But admittedly the only chance?" 

“Admittedly." 

“Then I propose to take the risk." 

The doctor was lost in thought for a moment. 
Then he said: 

“Mr. Fitzroy, do you appreciate properly what 
you are doing? I cannot consent to being a party 
to this unless you fully understand the conse- 
quences of your action. It is by no means certain 
that you will do any good and there is every 
possibility of your being brought to the same 
condition as Lady Violet. You understand that?" 

“Perfectly." 

“Then I have nothing more to say, except that 
it is very courageous of you, Mr. Fitzroy." 

“Not courageous, merely conscientious. I re- 
gard it as part of a guardian's extensive and 


302 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


peculiar duties/' Cyril's manner had perceptibly 
brightened at the prospect of escape from the 
harrowing inaction of the last twenty-four hours. 
“Now, will you please tell me what I have to 
do?" 

The doctor walked to the door. 

“Come this way, Mr. Fitzroy, and get into 
some hollands, and then I will show you how 
it's to be done." 

It was daylight before the doctor left the house. 
He had with difficulty prevailed on Cyril to go 
to bed and had insisted on a sleeping-draught, as 
his new patient showed signs of becoming light- 
headed. The house now contained two isolation 
wards, as Cyril was pledged not to leave his room 
on any pretext until such time as Sir James should 
declare him free from infection, though he was 
still able to keep in communication with the out- 
side world through the medium of the telephone, 
the receiver of which the doctor had carefully 
removed. 

For thirty hours Cyril enjoyed unbroken slum- 
ber and awoke with a feeling of wonderful refresh- 
ment and a ravening hunger. He rang the bell 
and, when the maid's voice was heard outside the 
door, inquired for the latest news of Lady Violet. 

“She had a good night, sir, and is going on 
well. The doctor is coming round againjjand will 
see you if you are awake. He looked in when he 
was here before, but you were still asleep. He 
said you ought to have some soup as soon as you 
woke up." 


VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 


303 


“Yes, Mary, we’ll get to that in a moment. 
Is Lady Violet still delirious?” 

“Oh, no, sir. She’s been herself since yester- 
day morning, but she’s very weak and sleeps most 
of the time.” 

“Right, Mary; now for breakfast. I don’t 
know that I can face soup, but some tea, toast, 
a fried sole, and an occasional egg would be 
grateful and comforting. Leave them on the mat 
when you’re ready and I’ll come and fetch them. 
This room’s still infected, so you mustn’t come 
inside.” 

“Very good, sir. Are you feeling better, sir?” 

“Right as rain, thanks, Mary, as you will see 
by the breakfast. Let me have it before Sir 
James comes and then if he forbids me to eat 
solid food it will be too late and I shall be one 
square meal to the good.” 

“Yes, sir. Would you like your letters, sir?” 

“Oh, yes, please, Mary. My own and any for 
Lady Violet, and the morning papers. Oh, and 
some tobacco and a pipe; and can you get me a 
hair-pin and some feathers? I seem to remember 
that most of my pipes are out of action.” 

Sir James Farraday was surprised out of his 
professional placidity by the spectacle presented 
by Cyril’s sick-room. The bed was drawn up 
to the window so that nothing in the street should 
escape observation; the floor was littered with 
newspapers and envelopes; on the dressing-table 
lay the ruins of a once sumptuous repast, and in 
the bed, propped up with pillows and smoking 


304 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


a peculiarly black and guttural pipe, was the 
form of Cyril Fitzroy clad in the invariable white 
silk pajamas and surrounded by letters, the 
answers to which he had been dictating to some- 
one at the other end of the telephone. 

“Then there’s one from your aunt, Myra, 
filled with kind inquiries and so forth. Can she 
be of any assistance? She called but was not 
admitted to the house. Look here, you’ll be see- 
ing her, won’t you? Tell her that Violet is on 
the high-road to recovery. Oh, me? I’m all 
right, only I’m not allowed out of the lazaretto 
till I’m certified free of infection. Good day, Sir 
James, excuse me one moment. Myra, I’m going 
to ring off now. Sir James Farraday has called 
to say I am to be quiet and avoid all excitement. 
Good-bye. Now, Sir James, I am at your ser- 
vice.” 

> “Well, Mr. Fitzroy, you don’t look in need of 
a medical adviser.” 

“I don’t feel it; but what news of Lady Violet?” 

“Going on well. It’s only a question of lying 
quiet and getting up her strength. Another fort- 
night or so and she’ll be convalescent, and you 
can take her away into the country.” 

“It was a near thing.” 

“Touch and go, and you must look after her 
very carefully for some time. Is she a good 
sailor?” 

“Yes; why?” 

“Well, why not take her away for a sea-voyage? 
It’s the finest tonic in the world and will do her 


VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 


305 


more good than anything I can suggest on dry 
land. Fresh sea-air night and day, she’ll divide 
her time between eating and sleeping, and come 
back completely restored to health. Why not 
run out to India and render an account of your 
stewardship to her father?” 

“It’s worth considering. I must consult her 
other guardian. The Anstruther Trust has got 
rather mixed up, Sir James, by my colleague get- 
ting engaged to be married. I don’t know how 
Mortimer Forrest will like my taking Mrs. 
Sutherland away for three or four months when 
she ought to be in England attending to her 
trousseau. How soon will Lady Violet be able 
to sail?” 

“Say another fortnight or so actually in bed, 
then a week to feel her feet and another week or 
so in the country. She’ll be ready for you in six 
weeks’ time. By the way, has anyone told Lord 
Darlington about this business?” 

“I haven’t, but he’s bound to see it in the 
papers. I’ll cable out that she’s been ill but is 
all right again now. That will keep him from 
worrying.” 

“I think that will be the best course. And 
now I’m going to overhaul you and take a swab 
of your throat. Do you feel a bit stiff in the back 
after the antitoxin?” 

“Just a little. I’ve had it before, of course, 
when I had diphtheria myself. Then I didn’t 
mind the injection or its effects half so much as 
the ceremonial purification that came first. They 


20 


306 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


got hold of the tender skin of my back and flayed 
me with carbolic and a scrubbing-brush.” 

The doctor laughed and proceeded with his 
examination. The swab was carefully sealed up 
and pocketed and an exhaustive scrutiny made of 
the throat and nose. 

“Now, Mr. Fitzroy, I’m going to send this to 
the bacteriological people and if we’re in luck’s 
way I hope to give you a clean bill of health in a 
couple of days’ time. Meanwhile, try to lie quiet 
and get up your strength; you’ve had a pretty 
exacting time the last few days.” 

“Oh, I’m all right now, never felt better. A 
trifle unwashed and unshaven, but otherwise the 
picture of orderly good health. As soon as you’re 
gone I propose to do battle with about five days’ 
growth of beard. Hallo! my mirror’s been taken 
away!” 

“Yes, I did that.” 

“Were you afraid of my falling in love with 
my own image and forgetting to make a good 
recovery?” 

“No.” Sir James hesitated and then picked a 
reflector out of his bag. “You’ve changed a bit 
the last few days and I didn’t want you to see it 
till you were all right. There’s no harm now.” 

He held out the reflector. At first Cyril saw 
only the unchecked luxuriance of four days’ 
growth of beard on his face. Then he leaned 
forward and caught the reflection of his hair in 
the mirror. When last seen it had been light 
brown throughout, growing fairer as it approached 


VERSATILITY IN CYRIL 


307 


the forehead. Now it was plentifully sprinkled 
with gray with an admixture of white at the 
temples. He looked up into the doctor’s face. 

“It’s quite patriarchal, Sir James. I shall 
never pass for twenty-five again.” 

“It's an honorable scar, Mr. Fitzroy.” 

“And fortunately unlike most honorable scars 
in that it will yield to treatment by hair-dye.” 

“But why disguise it? It makes you a far 
more imposing figure as Lady Violet’s guardian.” 

“Yes; but think of Everard — you know my 
uncle, don’t you? It makes me look middle- 
aged. I shall never be able to look Everard in 
the face again.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A BEEACH OF MEDICAL ETIQUETTE 

“Just when we are safest, there’s a sunset touch, 

A fancy from a flower-bell, someone’s death, 

A chorus-ending from Euripides, 

And that’s enough for fifty hopes and fears 
As old and new at once as Nature’s self, 

To rap and knock and enter in our souls, 

Take hands and dance there, a fantastic ring.” 

— Browning. 


w 


"Y TELL, Cyril, what have you done with 
your charge?” 

Rodney Trelawney drew up a chair 
beside Cyril's and felt in his pocket for 
a cigarette. They were sitting in the shade of the 
large elms on the lawn at Delaunay Towers, whither 
Lady Violet and her guardian had come a week 
earlier in search of country air and quiet before 
sailing to India. 

“ She's indoors with the medicine-man. He 
motored down after lunch to-day for a final 
examination before we start.” 

“How soon are you off?” 

“If he passes her all right, we shall sail in ten 
days' time.” 

“And how long are you going to be away?” 

“I don't know. It largely depends on how 


MEDICAL ETIQUETTE 


309 


soon Enid is recalled by Morty and Hymen. 
We shall go straight to Calcutta and, I suppose, 
spend a week or two with her father, but beyond 
that nothing’s decided. We may come back the 
same way, or we may go on to Japan and return 
by way of the States.” 

'/‘You’ll be missed, Cyril.” 

“ Rodney, you are too kind.” He bowed 
ironically. “If I could think of something 
equally nice to say to you, I’d say it — but inspira- 
tion is in abeyance at the moment.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t meaning myself. I was think- 
ing of Myra.” 

“You’ll have to console her in my absence.” 

Rodney laughed. 

“I’ll do my best to fill the aching void. It 
amuses me to think of us all three being under 
the same roof here.” 

“Why so?” 

“In the light of a certain meeting at a way- 
side country station two years ago and of my 
precipitate return to town. Not to mention the 
resolution we each of us formed to eschew the 
lady’s company.” 

“It’s not so easy to avoid meeting a person as 
one would think. I solemnly intended never to 
cross her path again, but I ran into her three 
times in the next week. It’s almost an impossibil- 
ity unless you’re going to cross the road every 
time you see her and jump up from the dinner 
table just because you see her the other side of 
it. Looks rather odd, too, and sets foolish tongues 
wagging. You probably found it the same?” 


310 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Yes. I met her soon afterwards at your 
aunt’s house and she told me she could not afford 
to lose her best friends because she felt unable 
to be more than a friend to them. She was awfully 
sweet about it, and in common decency I couldn’t 
go out of my way to avoid her after that, even if 
I’d wanted to.” Rodney reflectively watched 
the smoke of his cigarette curling upwards in a 
widening wreath. “I sometimes think I should 
have been wiser if I had stuck to my original 
idea — but it’s not altogether easy to keep away 
from her.” Cyril nodded without answering. 
“Of course it’s different for you in a way. You’ve 
got Lady Violet to look after and I don’t imagine 
you ever feel any great need for female society; 
but it’s different if you live in college with a com- 
mon-room full of gross material dons. It makes 
you pine to get away from them.” There was 
still no answer and Rodney was content to pursue 
his own line of reflection. “Looking back on it 
all from a more or less detached point of view, 
I begin to see an element of humor in the situa- 
tion which was not so clear when you pointed it 
out to me two years ago. I retired from the 
fight because I’d been beaten and because I 
thought you were going to be the lucky man; 
you refused to compete because you thought I 
had a better claim, and here we all are with the 
years rolling over our heads — two, to be accurate 
— and the fair Myra seems as elusive as ever.” 

Cyril sat abruptly upright in his chair. 

“We make rather a pitiful spectacle, Rodney. 


MEDICAL ETIQUETTE 


311 


Not one of us knows his own mind. I fancy 
I have a glimmering of what way the land lies, 
but you and Myra are still in outer darkness. 
I shall talk seriously to her before I go away.” 

“ About yourself?” 

“For a wonder — no. I shall talk to her about 
you.” 

“Not on the forbidden topic, Cyril.” 

“My dear boy, there are no forbidden topics 
when I talk to Myra. I tell her what is for her 
soul’s good in a variety of ways — and I shall tell 
her now.” 

“Have you ever put the question to her your- 
self?” 

Cyril looked at the questioner and then burst 
out laughing. 

“Rodney, what a question! You must ask her 
yourself. She’s coming out of the house now 
with Violet and the doctor.” He got up and col- 
lected three more chairs for the new-comers. 
“Well, Sir James, is the inspection satisfactory?” 

“Perfectly satisfactory, Mr. Fitzroy. She is 
fit to go to the ends of the earth. You must take 
care of her and see that she keeps quiet at first, 
but by the time she’s through the Bay she’ll race 
you up the rigging and beat you.” 

“Youth will be served, Sir James,” remarked 
Rodney. “Cyril’s getting gray-haired.” 

“It’s a repetition of the Jekyll and Hyde 
fiasco. The hair-dye which imparted that uni- 
versally admired shade of light brown has at last 
run out and though I’ve ransacked London I 


312 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


can’t get the original order repeated. Hence my 
departure for India. I depend on you, Rodney, 
to advise me out in Calcutta what color of hair 
the world of fashion is adopting in London and 
I will assume it ten minutes before I descend the 
gangway at Tilbury.” He looked at Rodney’s 
thinning locks. “I fancy that a slight degree of 
baldness will be the mode.” 

The doctor laughed. 

“I wish I could stay for the continuation of 
these feline amenities. I thought they were always 
confined to the other sex, but I see I was mis- 
taken. Can anyone tell me where Lady Delaunay 
is?” 

“ She’s lying down, Sir James,” said Myra. 
“Do you want to see her?” 

“If she’s lying down I won’t disturb her. I 
only wanted to say good-bye and congratulate 
her on the health-restoring properties of the air 
down here. Will you make her my apologies for 
running away like this, Miss Woodbridge? I have 
an appointment to keep before dinner to-night, 
and if anyone can tell me where my car has hid- 
den itself, I will be getting under way.” 

Cyril got up and walked towards the house. 

“I’ll tell your man to come round, Sir James. 
Did you bring any coats or bags? No? Not 
even a stray skeleton?” 

“Not even a stray skeleton, I am afraid. I’m 
much obliged to you. I’ll wait here till it comes.” 

Cyril disappeared into the house and the doctor 
began the round of his adieux. 


MEDICAL ETIQUETTE 


313 


“ Good-bye, Miss Woodbridge, I shall probably 
see you in town before long. Good-bye, Mr. 
Trelawney. Good-bye, Lady Violet. Don’t try 
to do too much at first, and send me a line from 
Suez to say how you are enjoying the heat and 
to tell me that you’re completely recovered. 
Keep an eye on your guardian — he wants a change 
as much as you do — and see that he doesn’t run 
any unnecessary risks.” 

Myra laughed. 

“You don’t know Cyril, Sir James, if you 
fancy him taking any risks — particularly when 
he’s in charge of his ward. He is caution per- 
sonified.” 

Sir James Farraday looked at her rather 
closely. 

“One never knows, Miss Woodbridge. I think 
the advice in general is good.” 

“Even though it doesn’t apply much in this 
particular instance?” 

“Well, I think it is applicable to us all. And 
now once more, good-bye.” 

“Good-bye, doctor, and thank you for all 
you’ve done for me.” Lady Violet stood in front 
of him holding both his hands in hers; “If it 
hadn’t been for you — I shouldn’t be here now.” 

Sir James began to wear a puzzled expression 
and looked at the girl in front of him in the same 
way that he had looked at Myra a moment before. 

“Has your guardian ever talked to you about 
your illness, Lady Violet?” She shook her head. 
“You know he was in the house the whole time 


314 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


you were ill? But nothing more?” He hesi- 
tated. “Well, I’m going to break the seal of my 
professional secrecy — because I don’t propose to 
accept gratitude where it is not due.” 

It was the turn of the others to look surprised, 
and Myra asked what was meant. 

Sir James still stood holding Violet’s two hands 
and looking affectionately down at her. 

“Do you know how bad you were, Lady Violet? 
Of course you wouldn’t. But there was one night 
when I had to go into the library and tell your 
guardian that I could do no more and that the 
disease had got out of my control. You did not 
hear about that?” 

Very pale in the face, Violet shook her head. 

“That was the time when I noticed the change 
in his hair that Mr. Trelawney was joking him 
about. Well — he suggested putting a tube in 
your threat and sucking the stuff out. I told 
him I could not take the responsibility of recom- 
mending such a course — that anyone who took 
the risk must take it with his eyes open to the 
danger. He said he would go through with it.” 
Sir James laughed. “He said it was part of a 
guardian’s extensive and peculiar duties.” He 
turned for a moment as his car swept round the 
corner of the house and drew up opposite where 
they were standing. “That’s the reason why 
I told you to keep an eye on him, Lady Violet, 
and see that he doesn’t run his head into danger.” 

With a parting wave of the hand he stepped 
into the car and drove away. A long silence 


MEDICAL ETIQUETTE 


315 


prevailed among the three, to be broken at last 
by Rodney remarking: 

“ I didn’t think he’d got it in him.’ , 

“I was waiting for it to come out,” said Myra. 
Lady Violet offered no contribution, but turned 
and walked slowly across the lawn to the house. 


CHAPTER XIX 


EVERARD FITZROY OF ALL PEOPLE PLAYING 
PROVIDENCE 

“Inveni, germana, viam.” — Virgil. 


M R. FITZROY, are you in the mood to 
give me some good advice?” 

Everard Fitzroy was basking in the 
sun by the side of the stream which ran 
at the bottom of Lady Delaunay’s lawn. He had 
selected the most capacious of the garden chairs, 
induced a boy to carry it down to the water’s 
edge, and, after annexing The Times from the 
library and suitably providing himself with cigars, 
was preparing to spend the morning in contem- 
plative repose. 

“My dear lady, I spend most of my waking 
hours in the distribution of unsolicited advice, 
but only give it where I think it is needed. That 
is why I make so many enemies among my near 
relations. I cannot conceive that you can really 
need my advice; your life is too beautifully ordered 
to want a guiding hand on the reins, my hand 
least of all.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Fitzroy. Did Cyril teach 
you to talk like that, or have you taught him? 
The words come from a common mint.” 

316 


EVERARD FITZROY 


317 


“I must have sat at his feet, Miss Woodbridge. 
Nowadays we all have to learn wisdom from the 
mouths of babes and sucklings. That’s what 
surprises me in your coming to seek my advice 
instead of going to the omniscient Cyril.” 

“Ah, but it’s about Cyril that I want your 
advice.” Myra sat down on the grass in front of 
him and clasped her hands over her knees. “If 
you’ve had any experience of domestic disturb- 
ances, Mr. Fitzroy, I want to reap the fruit of it. 
I come to you because Cyril always says you’re 
the soundest person he knows to approach in 
times of trouble or difficulty.” She smiled. 
“You see, you mustn’t fall below the standard 
he’s set up for you.” 

“But what is the nature of the disturbance?” 

“There isn’t one.” 

“But I don’t understand. You said you wanted 
to reap the fruit of my experience in the matter 
of domestic disturbances.” 

“Yes, I want you to engineer a disturbance.” 

“But why? And who is to be involved?” 

“I want a disturbance between Cyril and me.” 

' “And the reason?” 

“Because I want to clear his mind of a mis- 
apprehension. He thinks he is in love with me.” 

“And isn’t he?” 

“No.” Myra laughed a little sadly. “I wish 
he were.” 

Everard’s manner became unwontedly serious. 

“And so do I, Miss Woodbridge. As we’re 
speaking under the seal of the confessional, I will 


318 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


tell you frankly that I hoped to find you two 
married when I came back from India. Or, if 
not married, at least on the road there.” 

“As we’re under the seal of the confessional, 
Mr. Fitzroy, you have not been disappointed. 
It has fortunately not been made public, but 
Cyril and I are engaged to be married.” 

“But — good heavens, when did this take place?” 

“Oh — a long time ago — at the time you sailed 
for India.” 

“Then why this secrecy, and above all, why this 
delay?” 

“It was Cyril’s wish and I must admit that he 
has been right and I have been wrong. I’d bet- 
ter tell you the whole story.” 

“Please do so, and above all make it clear why 
you want the domestic disturbance. I am en- 
tirely in the dark there.” 

“Excuse my asking, but have you ever dis- 
cussed me with your sister-in-law?” 

“With Evelyn? Yes, I have, from time to 
time. We disagreed on the subject — as she 
wanted you to marry Rodney Trelawney and 
I had other designs for you. Why do you ask?” 

“Because it would help to clear things up if 
Evelyn had ever told you about what she regards 
as my preposterous views of marriage.” 

“They are new to me. We’ve only discussed 
marriage in the concrete.” 

“Well, Evelyn once held a brief for Rodney 
and tried to reason me into marrying him.” She 
broke off and looked away at the reflection in 


EVERARD FITZROY 


319 


the water of the tree under which they were 
sitting. “Poor Rodney, Pm afraid Eve treated 
him very badly and Fm going to be punished 
for it now. He offered me everything he had, 
and I said — not to him, of course, but to Evelyn 
— that I wanted a husband of my own choosing 
and that I should never be happy till I met a 
man who was quite indifferent to me and made 
him love me against his will. I suppose at twenty 
that did not seem so fantastic as it does now, Mr. 
Fitzroy. Anyway, I told Rodney that I could 
not do what he wanted.” 

“And then?” 

“And then I got engaged to Cyril. Not all 
in a moment, but you had been talking to him 
before you went away and advising him to marry. 
I found him in — what is it called? — a septic con- 
dition. He thought he was in love with me and 
wasn’t certain of himself. I found him preparing 
to go to South Africa to be out of temptation.” 

“And you persuaded him to stay and face the 
temptation?” 

“Yes — that was my second big mistake. He 
admitted that he was attracted to me, but not 
strongly enough to stand the strain of my com- 
pany for a lifetime. He didn’t put it quite like 
that, but it was what he meant. He said he had 
never brought himself to think of anybody’s 
interests but his own, and if he married me on 
the inspiration of a moment he could not answer 
for the durability of his affections.” 

“Well?” 


320 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“I told him to spend two years as a probationer, 
to find out his own feelings and see if he felt in a 
state of grace at the end of the time.” 

“What did he say to that?” 

“Oh, he accepted the bargain.” Myra smiled. 
“He said if I ever heard of him sacrificing himself 
for someone else, I should know the Ethiopian 
had changed his skin. Well, the two years are 
up now.” 

Everard Fitzroy allowed himself a few minutes 
to think over Myra’s confession. 

“There is still one point you have not cleared 
up, Miss Woodbridge. The two years are at 
an end and you want this engagement to come 
to an end too. Am I to take it that Cyril has not 
cleared himself in the ordeal?” 

“No. I think he has come out of it with 
remarkable credit.” 

“Then why won’t you let him have his reward?” 

“I would if he would take it. Or rather, 
I wouldn’t, because he might take it and spoil 
his whole life. He doesn’t want the reward, if 
we are to give it that name.” 

“Oh, it’s Cyril who wants to end the engage- 
ment?” 

“Yes, only he doesn’t know it. Mr. Fitzroy, 
this is the position. He and Violet are going out 
to India; it’s quite possible if things are fairly 
quiet out there that she will stay with her father 
till the end of his term of office. In that case, 
back comes Cyril, the guardianship over, and 
we’ve got to make up our minds one way or the 


EVERARD FITZROY 


321 


other. If you can’t suggest some means of break- 
ing off the engagement, he will go through with 
it in the best of good faith — firmly believing that 
he is in love with me. Some day he’ll find out 
that he isn’t and then my troubles will begin.” 

“You keep saying he’s not in love with you, 
but are you sure of it?” 

“Mr. Fitzroy, there’s only one person in the 
world he cares a snap of the fingers for.” 

“And who’s that? Himself?” 

“Oh, dear me, no. These are the days of his 
regeneration. I am thinking of Violet.” 

“But, my dear girl, she’s a mere child.” 

“She’s eighteen, Mr. Fitzroy.” 

“She’s a child for all that. I remember before 
Darlington left England, he and Cyril were 
wrangling about her, because Cyril said she was 
being developed too quickly. He appears to be 
doing his best to keep her in pinafores and high- 
waisted frocks so as to make her dependent on 
his advice and assistance in everything. I do 
not think you need fear rivalry in that direction. 
Miss Woodbridge.” 

“I must disagree with you, Mr. Fitzroy. All 
men are secretly flattered when weak, helpless 
woman comes and asks their aid.” She smiled 
up at him. “I expect you are just a little bit 
gratified at my coming and asking your advice 
this morning. Anyway, Cyril is no exception; 
the only thing which made him come out of him- 
self was having Violet to look after, it is the old 
natural division of the sexes, man the food getter 


21 


322 THE RELUCTANT LOVER 

and protector of the home, woman the house- 
keeper and mother of his children.” 

“I am still unconvinced, Miss Woodbridge.” 

“Then I will convince you.” She told him 
the story that Sir James Farraday had related 
the day before, adding rather pathetically, “You 
see, the ordeal proved what I knew it would 
prove, but the case was decided against me.” 

Everard Fitzroy smoked on long and silently. 

“I see the position, Miss Woodbridge,” he said 
at last, “but I see further than you do, and you 
have given me a difficult problem to solve. Put 
it in simple language. Cyril is to be convinced 
that he is not really in love with you. How is 
that to be managed? By convincing him that 
he is in love with Lady Violet. How are we 
going to do that?” He ruminated in silence for 
fully five minutes while Myra sat quietly before 
him still clasping her hands over her knees and 
looking up at him. “We want a stalking-horse, 
Miss Woodbridge, and I don’t know where we 
are going to find one.” 

“A stalking-horse?” 

“Yes. We must find someone who is going 
to keep a face sufficiently straight not to arouse 
friend Cyril’s suspicions, and then he is going 
to ask the guardian’s permission to pay his ad- 
dresses to the ward.” Everard chuckled. “I 
fancy that will make them both come out of their 
shells. But it will want delicate handling.” 

“I don’t know whom you will find to do it.” 

“Nor do I at present, but that’s not my prin- 


EVERARD FITZROY 


323 


cipal difficulty. You’re still the stumbling-block, 
Miss Woodbridge.” 

“I?” 

“Yes, my dear lady. It’s not enough to stir 
Cyril and Violet up in the most approved Drury 
Lane Autumn Melodramatic form to declare 
their undying love for each other. If I know 
anything of Cyril or any other man in his posi- 
tion, he will still be no nearer cutting the knot 
if it means — well, jilting a girl he’s fond of— 
a girl he’s been engaged to for a couple of years!” 
Myra made no answer. “Miss Woodbridge, the 
initiative must come from you. Before our great 
third act, in which the hero declares himself, we 
must have the satisfaction of knowing that he’s 
leaving no broken hearts behind, that you are 
‘suitably provided for,’ as the lists of bequests 
say in the newspapers.” 

Myra shook her head. 

“It is impossible, Mr. Fitzroy. Even if it 
were, it would be bad tactics. It makes poor 
Violet look a little cheap if Cyril only goes to 
her when I’ve thrown him over. You must find 
some other way out.” 

“Well, we’ll make his declaration and yours 
simultaneous.” Everard got up from the chair 
and stretched himself. “Miss Woodbridge, that 
is my scheme, and I propose to go through with 
it whether you approve or no. I am now going 
up to the house to gather allies. It seems to me 
that this is the moment of all moments for John 
Stanford to add a new experience to his life.” 


324 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


His voice softened for a moment as he turned 
to go. “Miss Woodbridge, it’s not every girl 
who would have the courage to do what you’ve 
done this morning. If I were twenty years 
younger I would — well — I would ask you to give 
me the same Two Years’ Probation that Cyril 
had.” 


CHAPTER XX 


DUPLICITY OF EVERARD FITZROY 
“Martiis caelebs quid agam Calendis? — Horace. 

T HE peace of a summer afternoon at De- 
launay Towers was usually unbroken be- 
tween luncheon and tea, but the afternoon 
following on Myra Woodbridge’s conver- 
sation with Everard Fitzroy was disturbed from an 
unaccustomed and unexpected quarter. Everard 
had begun to play Providence. Regardless of 
the detriment to his digestion which always 
resulted from after-luncheon insomnia, and unse- 
duced by the example of Myra and Cyril, who 
had subsided into two chairs under distant elm- 
trees on the lawn, he was observed pacing up and 
down the long terrace, lost in thought. Myra 
watched him, wondering how he proposed to 
solve the problem she had put to him that morn- 
ing, wondering too whether, in consideration of 
the whole-hearted remedies he proposed applying, 
she would not have been wiser to keep her own 
counsel. Cyril was absorbed in a book and de- 
clined to take notice of the history which was 
even at that moment being made at his expense,. 

At the end of half an hour Everard disappeared 
into the smoking-room to emerge a moment later 
325 


326 . THE RELUCTANT LOVER 

with John Stanford at his side. Then the pacing 
was resumed and from time to time they left the 
terrace and wandered on the lawn. The conversa- 
tion was carried on in an undertone, but an 
occasional word or laugh reached Myra’s ears, 
and once as they passed her chair she heard 
Everard remark, “Of course if she takes you 
seriously there’ll be the devil to pay, but it’s a 
risk we must take,” and Johnny answered, “Oh, 
I shouldn’t be so badly off, anyway.” Then 
their voices became inaudible. 

Three-quarters of an hour appeared to be 
necessary for John Stanford’s schooling; then he' 
returned to the house through the smoking-room 
window and Everard went in by the side-door. 
Five minutes later Myra caught sight of Ever- 
ard’s face at an upper window; it was Rodney’s 
window, for Rodney found it necessary to fortify 
his nervous system by retiring to bed for a couple 
of hours every afternoon. Myra did not choose 
to speculate on what orders Everard was issuing 
in that chamber of sleep and buried herself in 
her book till tea-time. Then from their various 
hiding-places conspirators and victims emerged 
and rubbed shoulders round the tea-table — 
Everard, Rodney, and John Stanford, all with 
expressions of exaggerated innocence; Violet and 
Cyril in happy ignorance of their fate. She was 
uncertain in which category to place herself. 

It was Everard’s intention that his little drama 
should be played between tea and dinner; accord- 
ingly he waited till the party had dispersed, gave 


DUPLICITY OF FITZROY 


327 


a few final instructions to John Stanford, and 
then disappeared from view. Myra was oppressed 
with a feeling of anxious uncertainty and lost 
little time in secluding herself in a remote quarter 
of the garden, and as Violet still spent many 
hours of the day lying down and resting, Cyril 
found himself deserted and took refuge in the 
smoking-room. 

He had been established with an armchair, 
a pipe, and the current number of Punch for about 
fifteen minutes when John Stanford sauntered in. 

“ Hallo, Cyril, you’re the very man I’ve been 
looking for. Put down Punch and give me your 
attention. I want to talk to you on a serious 
matter.” 

“So many people clamor for my company, 
Johnny, that I have practically no time to myself 
for the improvement of my mind. Consequently 
I shall not put down Punch till you have proved 
that your serious conversation offers a rival 
attraction. To be candid, you look rather un- 
interesting to-day: it is the absence of the flute. 
When you are seen carrying a flute in a shiny 
leather case you become an object of absorbing 
interest and people at once begin speculating 
whether you do it for fun or a bet, or whether 
you really hold a subordinate post in the orchestra 
of a minor West-End eating-house.” 

“Never mind the flute, Cyril, and try to be 
serious for once. I want your advice.” 

“What have you been doing?” 

“Nothing; it’s what I propose doing. I am 
thinking of getting married.” 


328 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“Cold-blooded braggart! I am not going to 
save you; and as I don’t propose to marry you 
myself, how does my assistance come in?” 

“I want your advice and approval in respect 
of my choice.” 

“Does she know it yet? Or are you hanging 
yourself in a menacing attitude over the entire 
unmarried section of British female society?” 

“She does not know it yet.” 

“Then it is your duty to tell her. At the cost 
of a little temporary pain to her, you must secure 
the peace of mind of the rest.” 

“That is what I propose to do. Now, I want 
your advice and approval — advice as to whether 
you think I have any reasonable prospects of 
success, and approval of my making the attempt.” 

“Well, first tell me the fortunate girl’s name.” 

“Your ward — Lady Violet.” 

Cyril looked at him seriously for a moment and 
then burst out laughing. 

“Don’t try to pull my leg, Johnny, but leave 
me in peace with Punch” He went back to his 
paper still chuckling and quite regardless of the 
look of irritation on his friend’s face. John Stan- 
ford’s foot tapped the floor for a moment and 
when he spoke it was with an air of dangerous 
calmness. 

“Look here, Cyril. I think you’ll admit I’m 
entitled to decent treatment in this matter. I 
have done the straight thing by you and I think 
you should return the compliment.” 

“What do you mean?” 


DUPLICITY OF FITZROY 


329 


“Well. I paid you the compliment of approach- 
ing you first and asking if you had any objection, 
instead of going direct to Violet and ignoring your 
position as guardian.” 

“Well?” 

“Well. I put it to you. Have you any objec- 
tion to my approaching Violet on the subject? 
If you have — any valid objection, I mean — tell 
me at once and I will say no more. If you have 
not, I ask for your permission to go on and try 
my luck. Nothing definite will be arranged till 
her father has been consulted. What is it to be?” 

“Are you in earnest, Johnny?” 

“Never more so.” 

“Well, then, I think you’re riding for a fall. 
I don’t know, of course, but I’ve never seen the 
slightest indication that she regards you other- 
wise than as a friend.” 

“That’s not my real point. If I take a toss 
that’s my lookout. The question is: have you 
any objection on the score of age, means, char- 
acter, suitability, and so forth — to my having 
a try?” 

“On the score of suitability — I have the strong- 
est objection.” 

“Possibly; but can you mention anyone you 
would regard as suitable for Violet?” 

Cyril laughed. 

“No — I don’t think I can. As regards age — 
you’re what? Twenty-four?” 

“Twenty-four and she’s eighteen.” 

“Character? There was that girl at Assisi 
three years ago . . .” 


330 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“That was a libel expressly invented by Stuart 
Phillips for your benefit. You can let that pass.” 

Cyril looked his friend up and down for a few 
minutes in silence. When he saw that Johnny 
was obviously sincere he had ceased to be amused 
and had grown anxious. After all, was it so 
certain that Violet would reject him? When he 
spoke it was in a very quiet and sober tone. 

“On reflection, Johnny, I don’t think I have 
any objection to offer. As I said before, I don’t 
think she’ll have you, but I can promise you 
that anything I can say in your favor ” 

He broke off as the door opened and Violet 
entered the room. 

“Your uncle told me I should find you in here, 
Cyril. I think it will be good for you to take 
me on the river for half an hour before dinner. 
Hallo, Johnny, I didn’t see you. You’re both 
looking preternaturally solemn. What is exer- 
cising your great brains?” 

“We’ve been talking about you chiefly, Vi, and 
that always makes me look careworn. Is there 
any reason why we shouldn’t pursue the con- 
versation, Johnny?” 

John Stanford affected to think for a moment 
and then replied in a hesitating voice: 

“No, no; none that I know of.” 

Violet looked round for a suitable chair, and 
not finding one to her liking, walked behind Cyril 
and leaned on the back of his. Her arms hung 
down and her hands were clasped over his chest. 
Cyril caught them in his own and began to speak, 
finding some difficulty in the selection of words. 


DUPLICITY OF FITZROY 


331 


“Well, Yi dear, as I said — we’ve been talking 
about you. Johnny has made a most extraordi- 
nary request; at least, when I say extraordinary 
I suppose I ought to have been prepared for it, 
but it came as rather a surprise. Yi, Johnny has 
asked my permission to, well — to pay his addresses 
to you.” He paused, but as neither made any 
sound he felt constrained to go on. “Of course, 
Johnny very properly realizes that I have no voice 
in the matter beyond a formal expression of ap- 
proval or the other thing. That is a matter for 
you and I hope you will give no definite promise 
without consulting your father.” Another pause 
and still no sound. “Well, Johnny asks me if 
I know any valid objection to his offering him- 
self, and for your benefit and his I can con- 
scientiously say I don’t. He is one of my oldest 
friends and one of the best fellows God ever put 
into the world. If you marry him, I give you 
my blessing for what it’s worth, and if someone 
else marries him, she will have my congratula- 
tions.” He unclasped her hands and stood up 
facing her. “Don’t decide in a hurry, Yi, and 
don’t be influenced by anyone’s feelings but your 
own. Now I’ll leave you.” 

He stumbled towards the window, but was 
recalled before he could get out on to the terrace. 
Violet was standing behind his chair, very pale 
and with eyes brightly shining. She pointed to 
the seat he had left, and after a moment’s hesi- 
tation he dropped into it. She kept silence for 
a short time as she tried to find words for what 


332 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


she wished to say, and Cyril was conscious of her 
right hand seeking the support of his. Then she 
spoke, slowly and with a tremor in her voice. 

“ Johnny dear, this is as much of a surprise to 
me as to Cyril. I never imagined you — you 
looked at me in that light, and I feel very much 
honored that you should make this — suggestion. 
But I’m afraid it’s no use.” She smiled wistfully 
at him. “It wouldn’t be fair to you to pretend 
it was, and I am afraid I must give you my 
answer now.” She paused, and the silence was 
broken by Johnny asking, in a mechanical tone: 

“I suppose I am to take it that means ‘No’? ” 

She nodded without answering, and Cyril could 
feel her hand trembling in his. 

“I am very sorry, Johnny, that I can’t say the 
other thing, but you never entered into my scheme 
of life in that character and I may as well tell 
you so at once.” 

Johnny Stanford got up from his chair with a 
set face and tightly closed lips. 

“Then I suppose I must take that as your last 
word on the subject. May I ask one other thing? 
Am I rejected on my own demerits or in favor of 
someone else?” 

“That is a question you have no right to ask, 
Johnny,” said Cyril sharply. 

“Every man whose hand is refused as mine 
has been has a right to know if it is by reason of 
some intrinsic defect in his character.” 

“I don’t agree.” 

“It is a question for Violet to decide,” said 


DUPLICITY OF FITZROY 


333 


Johnny coldly. “I put the question to her again. 
Is there anyone with a higher claim on your 
affections?” 

Violet strangled a sob and tried unsuccessfully 
to answer. Then another sob and she managed 
to get out the word “Yes.” 

“Then I will say good-bye.” Johnny bowed 
with dignity and walked out of the room. Violet 
walked unsteadily to his chair and sank into it, 
the whole of her slight body shaking with sobs 
which she could barely suppress. Cyril crossed 
over and dropped on one knee by her side, holding 
her hand and not speaking till she should be 
recovered from the shock of surprise which the 
last few minutes had caused her. Gradually he 
felt her hand ceasing to tremble and a moment 
later she looked down on him with a smile. 

“I’m all right now, Cyril. What are you 
looking at me like that for?” 

“Like what?” 

“As if you’d just had the biggest surprise of 
your life. It’s different for me.” 

“I can’t think of anything that surprised me 
more.” 

“Than what? My refusing Johnny?” 

“No; what you just told him, about refusing 
him in favor of someone else.” 

| ' By way of reply she stroked his hair with her 
disengaged hand. 

“You never suspected that, Cyril?” 

“I did not. I told Johnny he was riding for 
a fall, but I never suspected the other thing.” 


334 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“And you don’t like my keeping it a secret 
from you, dear, and you are too proud to ask me 
to tell you his name?” 

Cyril shrugged his shoulders. 

“I think we’ve got enough confidence in each 
other, darling, for me to know that you will take 
no irrevocable step without consulting your 
father. If you have consulted him, well and good ; 
if you have not, you doubtless will. In anything 
that may happen short of an irrevocable step 
I feel it would be impertinent for me to interfere.” 

“The subject has no interest for you?” 

“The subject carries with it no right of inter- 
ference.” 

“I see. Poor Cyril, I believe you were as 
much surprised and upset as I was, though you 
didn’t show it.” 

“It did come as a surprise, certainly, though 
I ought to have been prepared for it.” 

“Had Johnny thrown out any hints before?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of Johnny. I was 
thinking that my guardianship can’t go on for- 
ever, however much I might wish it to, but I 
never really realized it till to-day. Fitzgerald 
uses rather a good expression in one of his let- 
ters — ‘before I knew I was to die.’ Most of us 
spend a good many years of our lives without 
thinking of death as having any reference to our- 
selves. We imagine a special dispensation of 
Providence in our favor, till the dreadful morning 
when we wake up like old Edward Fitzgerald 
and find we’re just as mortal as our neighbors. 


DUPLICITY OF FITZROY 335 

I suppose that was my frame of mind about the 
‘Anstruther Trust ’ till Johnny came as a re- 
minder.” 

Violet looked at him critically, with her head 
on one side. 

“ You’ve made a very tolerable guardian, Cyril, 
I am in no hurry to give up being your ward.” 

A very gentle sigh escaped him. 

“It’s got to come, though, Vi darling, when 
your father comes back to England, if not sooner. 
He may want to keep you when we get you out 
to India. Besides, in three years’ time you’ll be 
of age and free to control your own property and 
go your own sweet way in- the world without 
having me to bother you.” 

“And what will you do then?” 

“I really don’t know.” 

“Get a new ward?” 

“Never!” 

“How funny! I should have thought you 
would have been lonely without one. I should 
miss my guardian far too much, so when I come 
of age my first responsible action will be to place 
myself and my chattels in trust again with you 
to look after me.” 

“I’m afraid it won’t do, Vi dear.” 

“Why not?” She got up and moved towards 
the door. 

“What a question! after you’ve just told me 
that Johnny has been rejected in favor of some- 
one else. I fancy the Some One Else will have 
something to say to your trustee-guardian.” 


336 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


“I can assure you that the Some One Else will 
never stand in the way of the Guardian, and the 
Guardian will never stand in the way of the 
Some One Else.” 

“I don’t follow you.” 

“No, because you were too proud to ask the 
Some One Else’s name.” 

She kissed the tips of her fingers to him with 
a laugh as she slipped through the doorway. 
Cyril had suffered too many surprises that after- 
noon to think very quickly or clearly. When he 
fancied that he had caught her meaning, his feel- 
ings were equally compounded of joy and dismay, 
to which was added an element of embarrassment 
as he stepped out on to the terrace and nearly 
fell over the form of his uncle, who was dozing 
in an armchair with a newspaper on his knees. 
But the embarrassment lasted only a moment. 
Everard was a very sound sleeper and could not 
possibly have heard what took place in the 
adjoining room. 


CHAPTER XXI 


“Men marry because they are tired, women because they are 
curious. Both are disappointed.” — O scar Wilde. 

A GLIMMERING OF DAYLIGHT 

D INNER that night proved less of an ordeal 
than Cyril’s disordered imagination had 
foretold. His ward was still considered 
too much of an invalid to take anything 
but a light meal in her room. John Stanford sat 
at the far end of the table from him and seemed 
far less dejected than he had anticipated; indeed, 
Everard felt constrained to remind him privately 
in the drawing-room that he was a rejected suitor 
and proportionately heartbroken, hinting the 
advisability of an early withdrawal from Delaunay 
Towers next morning. Cyril was not called upon 
to make any serious contribution to the general 
conversation, and sat in silence, brooding over 
the events of the afternoon, while the conversa- 
tional ball was left in his uncle’s capable hands. 
Myra also was silent, nerving herself for an inter- 
view with Cyril later on in the evening. 

The meal passed without incident and Ever- 
ard’s flow of anecdotes and badinage continued 
long after the ladies had left the room. He was 
pleased with his successful appearance in the 
337 


22 


338 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


role of Providence and spared no effort to main- 
tain the success unabated until the fall of the last 
curtain, and for this purpose it was necessary to 
leave Cyril to deal undisturbed with the con- 
flicting thoughts which surged through his brain. 
His own duel with Myra had ended before dinner 
and had ended in her complete discomfiture. 
She was now writing a long letter to Evelyn Fitz- 
roy and had just sealed and stamped it when the 
men entered the drawing-room and Cyril sug- 
gested a stroll in the cooler air of the garden. 

They walked in silence for the length of the 
terrace, and it appeared to her that the task of 
opening the conversation lay on her shoulders. 

“Do you know yet how long you and Violet 
are going to be away, Cyril?” she asked. 

“I don’t, Myra. It rather depends on her 
father and on Enid. If he wants to keep her 
with him I shall probably come straight home; 
if not, we may wander eastward and come back 
via Japan and the States.” 

“And then?” 

“And then I shall come and see what’s hap- 
pened to you, Myra dear, in my absence.” 

Myra hesitated and then said very gently: 

“I was thinking, Cyril, that if you are away 
for more than about six months, you will probably 
come home to find me married.” 

“Then I shall get off at Marseilles and be back 
within a month of leaving England.” He spoke 
lightly but without carrying conviction in his 
tone. 


A GLIMMERING OF DAYLIGHT 339 


“I am afraid that won’t make much difference, 
Cyril, except that you may be in time to see me 
married.” 

“I thought perhaps I might be in time to marry 
you myself. You will remember we discussed 
the matter in that spirit a couple of years ago.” 

“Yes, but with me it has not yet come to the 
point of getting married at all costs, regardless 
of the instrument of fate. I am not in such a 
hurry to get married that I couldn’t wait for your 
return if I wanted to.” 

“No, but it means that my presence at the 
ceremony is no longer indispensable.” 

“Yes, Cyril. You must feel that yourself.” 

“The ‘Cleansing Fire’ has not been sufficiently 
efficacious? I was afraid that two years would 
find a good many spots still lingering about the 
leopard’s skin.” 

“No, I have no fault to find with the two 
years’ probation.” 

“Then, Myra, why in the name of all that’s 
wonderful do you come and tell me that the 
probation is thrown away and the prize you 
offered two years ago is withdrawn from com- 
petition?” 

“I never said that the probation was thrown 
away. It has proved one thing that I expected 
and another that was quite unexpected.” 

“You must speak in language suited to a tired 
brain, Myra.” 

“Well, it proved that you could sacrifice your- 
self, which I expected; and it proved that the 


340 


THE RELUCTANT LOVER 


sacrifice was not made for me. I had a talk 
with Sir James Farraday yesterday,” she added 
with apparent irrelevance; “ Violet must have 
been a lot worse than any of us imagined.” 

“And in consequence of this — ?’ ’ 

“In consequence of this, oh, Cyril dear, do try 
and understand me. It's been getting clearer 
and clearer every day for the last two years, 
and that was the final test. Eve been writing 
to your aunt to-night, telling her she was right 
and I was wrong. Right from the first she told 
me that I ought to marry Rodney because he 
really loved me, and you never did, Cyril dear, 
however much you may think it. And I wanted 
to make you love me, and I tried very hard, and 
one day I thought I was beginning to succeed. 
But then Violet came, and you had her to look 
after and I began to understand you. I’m too 
independent, Cyril, for you; you want somebody 
who will look up to you and depend on you and 
need your help and support. That’s why you and 
Violet are going to be very well suited and very 
happy together. But I shouldn’t do for you 
and you wouldn’t do for me, and it’s no use pre- 
tending for the sake of a promise two years old 
that we should.” She stopped with a catch in 
her voice. 

“And you’re going to marry Rodney?” 

“I think so, when I’ve had a little more time 
to think about it. And you are going to marry 
Violet.” 

“I shall want a great deal of time to think about 


A GLIMMERING OF DAYLIGHT 341 


it. Johnny Stanford asked me to-day if I knew 
of anyone suitable for her, meaning ‘good enough/ 
I said ‘no/ and I still think so.” 

“But you’ve got to get used to the idea.” 

“I’m getting too old, Myra, for these quick- 
changes.” 

“Well, it wasn’t a quick-change with me. It 
took nearly two years to convince me. It’s dif- 
ferent for you ; you barely had two hours to think 
about it.” 

“And I shall want a great many more.” 

“Which you will get, the whole way from Lon- 
don to Calcutta, and when you meet Lord Dar- 
lington, you must have forgotten me and the 
Temple and the probation and everything.” 

He turned to her without answering and stood 
watching the moonlight shining on her soft dark 
eyes and glorious hair. The same thought was 
in both their minds: it was the last time they 
would ever meet like this. Then he caught her 
two hands and lifted them reverently to his lips, 
and as he bent over them she leaned forward and 
kissed him gently on the forehead. 

“Not forgotten, Myra. Whatever the ending, 
oh Myra, these two years were worth it!” 


THE END 





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